


Jericho

by xxxkia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon Deals, Demon!Dean, Domestic, Incest, John and Mary Live, M/M, MenofLetters!Sam, Season/Series 10 Spoilers, Season1!Sam, Season10!Dean, Slight Self-harm and self-punishment, Slight Violence and Gore, Stanford Era, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2015, Tattoos, Time Travel, Visions, Wincest AU - Freeform, hunter!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxkia/pseuds/xxxkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about Sam, who has never hunted a damn thing in his life and about Dean, who has hunted every damn thing there is. They will meet at the vastnesses of blooming farmlands on a country road on a sunny spring day. It's this car, which Sam finds in the Men of Letter's bunker, that sends him that way. A car - so black and beautiful - that was buried in the Bunker for decades. And you know, it's not just a car. Because legend has it that it belonged to the best hunter, who has ever lived. He was the best, the most dangerous. But it's rumored that at the end he became more monster than man. Just like the things he always hunted.<br/>So this is a story about the Impala, about the curse of Cain and the blessing of the Samulet. A story about hellhounds and the darkness at crossroads. About Death and Hell. Then of course there will be Hell, because Dean's the new King.</p><p>This story is written for the SPN-J2-Big Bang 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the gorgeous art, Cassiopeia7. It was truly a pleasure to work with you <3
> 
> You will find her art in the story, for the original pieces, please go to: http://cassiopeia7.livejournal.com/540711.html
> 
> You can also find me on LiveJournal: xxxkia.livejournal.com
> 
> Thanks for reading, you guys. I hope you will enjoy it!  
> (Notes will be at the end of the fic)

  [©Cassiopeia7](http://cassiopeia7.livejournal.com/540711.html)

 

 **PROLOGUE**  

Dirt got under his nails as Sam dug the hole, knowing that he had to be fast, that time was limited. Frantically he shoveled the loose earth away with his hands before he had a small hole in front of him. He was panting heavily, the wetness of the ground soaked through his jeans where he was kneeling. He reached into his jacket and struggled the small box out of his pocket, impatiently as it got stuck on his first try.

He cursed under his breath as he finally got it free, clutching it tight, going over the contents in his head, checking if he had everything it needed. Rain suddenly hit him in the face, wet drops falling down from the black sky. The rain just started, wasn’t that heavy yet but the coldness seeped through Sam as if he just jumped into an ice-cold lake. He shivered and clutched the box even tighter, head thrown back so he could stare up into the starless, moonless black sky.

Sam didn’t know if he was praying for someone, he wasn’t sure who he even praying to or if the sky would even hold his answer. Maybe he was facing the wrong… direction.

He blinked against the raindrops, which fell onto his face, nearly piercing his skin as it started to rain heavier. He felt them run down the side of his face and he had to blink again, not sure if some tears cheated their way down as well.

That’s when he looked down towards the ground again, hole starting to get muddy with the rain and the loose earth and Sam finally stuffed the small tin box into the ground, breathing out as he spread the dirt over it, filling the hole up again.

Once he was done, he leaned back and got up slowly, his breath visible in front of him. He turned around, staring into the night in front of him, no matter in which direction he turned next. It was pitch black all around, nothing even suggested sightly that something was there. Yet when he turned South the second time, he could see lights flashing in the distance, knowing they were on their way.

Time was limited after all.

„Well, well, well…“ The deep voice behind him threw Sam off, he shrank back and turned around, not believing who was standing there in front of him.

„What are you? How are you…“ Sam’s voice quivered, not quite as strong as he told himself to be. The fine hair on his neck rose, a shiver shook his body hard. He blinked against the rain and stared Dean in the face.

The other man smiled, genuine yet amused. „What brings you here, Sam?“

„What are you?“

Dean laughed, voice rough and hoarse, yet clear, even though the rain should have made it hard for Sam to even hear anything. „Not my usual scene, I have to admit that but I just couldn’t resist after you called.“

„Dean…,“ The attempt was weak and Sam felt like this was a huge mistake. The lights of the car coming finally closer, still far enough away to give them a few more minutes, but too close already to make this too long. „Dean…,“ This time he was just breathing the name, barely audible at all but it hurt so much.

Dean stepped closer, into Sam’s space and even Sam’s instincts screamed at him to step back, to bring as much distance between them as humanly possible, but Sam was frozen to the ground, staring into Dean’s face, recalling all the details once more.

„Sam.“ The blond stepped even closer. „We both know why you are here.“

„You were dead.“ Sam was sure Dean could hear his heartbeat, he raised one eyebrow at the brunet, an amused smile dancing around his lips again.

„That kind of lies in the definition.“ Dean grinned and his eyes flashed and Sam wasn’t sure what it was but something told him that Dean’s eyes were supposed to change. To something darker, something more symbolic yet they stayed as green as ever, probably even mocking Sam.

„Time’s running out, Sam.“ Dean crocked his head and his eyes flickered to the road South of them. The car was coming closer and Sam knew what that meant.

„What’s the price?“ Sam stammered, head nervously turning towards the car. Seconds were left, he knew that much.

„You know the price.“ Dean answered.

The car came to a stop with screeching wheels, even sliding to the side a bit on the muddy road. Sam could see the windshield wipers going crazy and he heard the door open followed by the croaking of a shotgun. „STEP AWAY, SAM!“ His father’s voice boomed against the rain but all Sam could do was stare towards the car. His Dad and about four other men were standing in the rain, guns ready to shoot. „SON, I SAID STEP AWAY!“

Sam turned his head back to Dean, who smiled warmly at him. And suddenly Sam felt the sun on his face, blinking against rays instead of raindrops and it was warm and sticky, cotton on his naked skin and a body pressed tightly next to his, arms slung over him protectively. „You need to trust me, Sam.“ Dean breathed against his cheek the same way the Dean in front of him is saying it over the rain.

„SAM!“ His father screamed and Sam knew that he came closer, aiming the shotgun at Dean.

His hands trembled, fists starting to hurt as his nails pressed into the soft skin of his hands.

He felt the sun again and Dean’s breath against his lips.

„ _Sammy_ …“

And as his father screamed his name again, Sam reached up and his fingers grabbed the damp fabric of Dean’s jacket, clutching it so tight his cold fingers started to hurt more than they already did from the coldness that seeped through Sam. Dean smiled and Sam heard faintly how shots were fired but nothing happened, nothing could get through to them, bullets hitting an invisible shield.

So Sam gripped as tight as he could and finally yanked Dean forward, pressing his lips over Dean’s. And then Sam was kissing Dean.

In the middle of the crossroads.


	2. Chapter 1

 

 

  

"Check."

Hell smirked and moved her black knight over the chess board, threatening the white Queen. Death chuckled. "Always with the Knights…,"

"Please…," Hell leaned back against the chair. "It's just a means to an end." She leaned forward, black hair framing her face. "Nobody knows that better than you."

"So it would seem." Death reached over to wrap his finger tips around his rook. "Human bones, huh," Death said once he had touched it and made his move, beating the black knight.

"Well, this _is_ hell after all."

Death looked around in the darkness. "Yes." The smell of smoke was heavy in the air and the crackle of flames were heard in the distance. "It is."

"So…," Hell grabbed her knight, light blue flames erupting from the palm of her hand, burning the chess figure instantly. "The Winchester Boys."

"That's why you called me here." Death leaned back, folded his hands in his lap and watched Hell with dark eyes. "I always assumed you had taken some interest in them."

"Interest?" Hell laughed. "Yeah, that would be the right word choice, yes."

"And you still do?" Death leaned forward, voice smooth and calm, eyeing the girl in front of him. She smiled and threw her hair back. A fine cloud of ash swirled up from the tips of her hair, surrounding her before they disappeared in the blackness around them. Her black eyes moved over him before he looked down at the chess board between them. Single strands of black hair caressed her tanned, naked shoulder as they fell in front of her chest. She blinked. "I've waited for them since Cain and Abel, who were idiots. Like those winged bastards before them."

"Michael and Lucifer?" Death asked.

"They all failed." She mumbled, staring into space as her eyes became glassy. "They all didn't understand."

Death frowned. "But the Winchesters do?"

Hell looked up, eyes sharp and knowing. "They passed the tests until now, didn't they?"

"Well, it's not like they didn't have any help." Death said. "You always had your fingers in the game, didn't you? Letting the angel into hell, so he could pull Dean out. Letting Dean go. Zapping them onto a plane once they opened the cage." Death looked at her. "Getting Sam's soul out of the cage for me."

Hell rolled her eyes. "Like anyone was playing fair at all." Then she grinned, her eyes brightening up. "That's what you call cheating, my friend."

Death leaned forward, fixing Hell with narrowed eyes. "You can't cheat Death."

Hell laughed loudly. "Funny, and here I thought I actually would be the one, who can."

"You also were the one, who allowed Cain to give the mark to Dean." Death continued. "Why?"

Hell was silent.

"You know what the mark is protecting." Death hissed, leaning closer. "You know what happens if _he_ walks free."

" _He_?" Hell spat. "That's my brother you are talking about."

Death straightened up. "And it is your soul that locked him up. Your soul that created the mark, yet it's too dark, too tempting. It corrupted Lucifer, Cain… and it is starting to do the same to Dean."

"Well…," Hell leaned back, flakes of ashes dancing through the air. "And that's exactly why I called you here."

"Then what do you want?" Death growled. "Don't waste my time."

"Like you wouldn't have enough." Hell answered. "But now that you ask - I want their souls."

"You have no property of their souls."

"One of them carries my mark. He _sold_ his soul to _Hell_." She replied. "And the other one should still be in the cage. _My_ cage. The same one, who did the trials, who summoned _me_ to _sacrifice himself_ to _me_. We both know that the demon tablet wouldn't close the gates of hell, much more then _asking Hell_ to kill all the demons in this world."

"He never finished the trials."

"He wasn't supposed to." Hell grinned and Death showed genuine confusion. She shook her head. "Tests, remember?"

"What do you want, Hell?" Death sighed.

"I'm bound to my brother as he is bound to the Mark of Cain. My real power is locked away with the Darkness, so is my brother, I agreed to that when God failed to beat it." She explained. "You and I both know that I can remove the mark within a heartbeat and my brother bearing the Darkness walks free on Earth. Now, we don't want that, do we?"

Death swallowed. "Are you threatening us?"

"Oh, I threatened all of you already a long time ago." Hell hissed, shadows playing over her face as the ashes flakes grew larger, light blue hell fire burning them in the process. "I keep my brother locked away, I keep him safe from all of you as you keep the rest of you safe from him. Now all I'm asking is two human souls, that's not that hard to understand."

"I can't give you their souls. I don't own them, I just reap them." Death cringed, voice ragged as he tried to keep himself calm.

"I know what your plans are for them." Hell threw in, making Death shut up. She picked up one of the abandoned chess figures before she rolled the carved bone between her fingers. "An involuntary bird told me." She grinned as she threw the chess figure back on the board. Death followed it with his eyes. "I'm sure you had a convincing argument."

"I always do." Hell said.

"So what do you think our plans are for them?"

"When God asked me to split my soul to create a key, he created a curse. Lucifer wasn't strong enough and neither was Cain. This curse… it's corrupting Dean as well, and all of you are waiting for him to fail like Cain and Lucifer before him. You want him to kill Sam, so he would come to you, begging for damnation. And all of you will play the understanding crowd that will offer him a place where he wouldn't hurt anyone anymore, locking him away for good like you did with Lucifer. Like God asked me to do with Lucifer, only I invented the 66 seals as he was still the key to my brother, I couldn't lock him away _forever_. And then Cain went into hiding by himself, believing it was his punishment… well, until recently anyway." Hell leaned back into the chair, crooking her head to the side. "You all betrayed me. You and the angels and God."

"We never…,"

"I'm speaking." She hissed. "MY BROTHER AND I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING! He absorbed the darkness and let me lock him up like God begged us to; because God was too weak for it."

Hell laughed darkly. "But you wouldn't make the same mistake again, would you? Asking me to do it. No - due to God's absence you rather gave an _angel_ godlike power so he could create a cage for Dean. The _scribe_ of God, such a brave little angel."

"He created a new cage, one that cannot be opened anymore, not through anyone, not through me - one that would lock Dean away forever and with him the mark. The only key that is able to free my brother." Hell's eyes moved around the place, spotting things in the darkness behind them. "So I called you here to make it up to me. To make me forget the fact that you all went behind my back."

Death just stared. "And you are asking me to give you their souls."

"If I own their souls, you will never be able to lock them away from me. I will be able to reach them - always."

"So what do you suggest?" Death hesitated. Deprecation written all over his face.

"One last test." Hell answers, smiling innocently. "As you all believe so strongly that Dean is going to break and will slaughter Sam like Cain did with Abel, I suggest that we raise the stakes a little. If I win, I get their souls, full ownership, I decide their fate, their death and I will be the one reaping them and deciding where they will spent eternity. And with them I will own the Mark of Cain and therefore hold the key."

"Fine…," Death breathed. "And if we win?"

"You get to keep them, try your little plan on them. See what you'll get from it."

Death narrowed his eyes. "Dean is about to summon me to ask for help. He _will_ ask me to remove the mark, to save humanity from himself."

Hell smirked. "And we all can only guess how this would end, huh." She raised her eyebrows in question, eyes sparkling. "So go to him then, make your offer, ask him if he chooses to save the world or Sam. Ask him to sacrifice his brother for the greater good."

"So if he does choose the greater good, we win." Death stated.

"I win if he chooses Sam." Hell smirked knowingly.

Death sighed. "You really wouldn't want that."

She shrugged. "Well, we all know that if he chooses Sam then the world is going to burn." She grinned. "Not that I care." She flicked of a flake of ash from her arm. "I like fire."

"But if he kills Sam or if Sam dies before that, I will reap him and we will decide over Dean's further fate."

She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward while she huffed. "Whatever you are planning, my decision stands. You wanna cheat, fine, cheat. But don't expect me to not interfere. They always choose each other, so no matter what you are planing for them, they would never give each other up."

"Given the right circumstances, they might." Death smiled.

"You cannot take the mark of Dean. No one but me can." Hell answered. "And with the mark, he needs to keep his memories. Otherwise you can expect way worse than what is about to happen in the next few minutes."

"I cannot remove it but I can make it bearable, make him own it, use it." Death rubbed his hands together before he got up. "But I can make Sam forget, I can turn back time. You actually think Dean wouldn't give Sam a second chance when given the option?" Death grinned as he straightened his black suit down. "Bring his parents back to life, give Sammy the life he deserves. You don't think he would say yes to that in a heartbeat."

Hell leans back in her chair, crossing her legs over as she looked up at Death through her dark lashes. Ash started to flow around her, burning flakes that carried the smell of smoke over to where Death was standing. All she did was look at him.

"So he can have all that and all he has to do is stay away. They won't remember him, they won't know that they are missing a son and one day they die like everybody else and I will reap them, I will reap Sam and there was no decision to be made. And then…," Death adjusted the ring on his finger before he reach for his cane. "And then we win."

"We'll see." Hell finally said as she wrapped a stand of hair around her finger. "We'll see."

"So, you asked for one last test." Death grinned.

"Yes, I did." Hell smiled. "And you might be right, you know." She looked up as Death gripped his cane tighter, his silhouette starting to blur. "But we will see." She smiled.

"Dean is asking for my presence." Death announced. "We'll meet again once this matter is settled."

And then he was gone.

Hell stared at the empty chair across from her. "But then again…," She said slowly as she closed her hand tightly. Then her black eyes fell on the small object that had appeared in her hand. A black leather string was wrapped around her fingers as the golden amulet lay heavily in the middle of her palm.

"… you should never underestimate the Winchesters."

 

* * *

 

Sam knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.

But he had waited almost all his life for this very moment. His Dad had told him stories about this place as long as Sam could remember. This Bunker was one of many others scattered around the world, belonging to no other than the Men of Letters. And their American base was here, in this place, within those walls and it was the only thing Sam ever wanted.

And now he was here, actually here and all he was supposed to do was stay in his room?

No way in hell.

Right now he was pressed against a brick wall, only in his socks and pajamas while he tiptoed through the corridors of the bunker. He carefully peered around the corner and listened for any kind of footsteps. But it was quiet and except for the occasional talking coming from behind the numbered wooden doors, the coast was clear. Sam kept on walking, soundlessly and fast over the tiled floor, until he had reached the next corner. Looking back and checking, he ducked and kept moving.

His way brought him in front of two heavy metal doors and once he tried, it instantly opened. He gave the door a small shove so he could slip through. That's when he found himself in front of a flight of stairs. They led up to another room and Sam saw that the room was brightly lit already. It seemed to be bigger and much more spacious than the one he had already seen. Then he started to walk up the steps carefully, listening for any kind of noise or indication that someone was upstairs. But after a few moments of not moving and being absolutely quiet to listen, there was nothing and so he continued.

And then he was standing in the garage. The stairs had brought him into a gigantic hall with cars and other vehicles lined up along the wall. Mechanical tools boxes were scattered all over the place and car pieces were laying here and there.

Well, he had actually hoped for a library.

But he also knew that he couldn't sneak through the whole bunker or risk them catching him eventually. Plus he wasn't even sure if they might check up on him at some point. And imagine the moment they realize he wasn't in his room.

It made him grin though and he ran a hand through his messy hair. Better this than nothing, he guessed. It would probably take years before he would return to this bunker, so he should just take as much in as he could, no matter if it was cars instead of books.

One day he would be able to explore it openly.

So all he could do now, was to peek. Sam chuckled as he started to walk along the cars, taking them all in. They all were polish and shiny and he remembered how his Dad told him once that he was taking care of some of them. He was a former mechanic after all. They were all older models, some were like _really_ old but Sam had no clue what models they were and what year they were from. But they must belong to some important people if they kept them here. And they were constantly checked that they were intact, running and maintained.

His fingers lingered over the bright red paint of an old Ford before he pulled his hand back, fingers going to make a fist. He bit his lip and stepped closer to the car, noticing the white note behind the windshield. The other cars or motorcycles had them too and as he stepped closer he saw that they were cataloged. That they were items in the gigantic collection of artifacts, searched together by the Men of Letters and their ancestors.

His eyes wandered to the door at the end of the garage and it was obvious that there was a way in and out of here other than the one Sam had taken when he first arrived here. His Dad had parked outside in a hidden parking lot before they had walked to the entrance of the bunker. So this place really was just there for the artifacts Sam assumed, according to the small white papers on all of them. Papers with item numbers and some general information and as Sam approached the white car next to the red Ford, he stopped to read that the car he was standing in front of was an _Edsel Ranger, build year: 1960_. It had belonged to James R. Williams, legacy.

He smiled and kept on walking until he reached the end of the hall where more tool boxes and shelves were standing. He turned around to take in the whole garage and was genuine impressed how big it was and how big this whole bunker was, considering that it looked so small from the outside. And all those items in here had a history that was important enough to be remembered, at least it was important enough for the Men of Letters. They all told a story worth preserving. It was the items behind the stories, behind the people, who owned them, which made them so important. His glance wandered over the cars and the motorcycles and he suddenly got chills, realizing what he was seeing here. His eyes fell on a old-school motorcycle and he caught the name written on the white paper, which was dangling from one of the handlebars. _Dorothy Baum_. The one Sam had read in school like all the other kids. The story about the little girl, who had found herself in the land named Oz. His friends in elementary school had loved the story, the book. And Sam was the only one, who had known that it wasn't just _a story._

This made it clear that the items here weren't just things that belonged to legacies. They belonged to Men of Letters as much as hunters or other people involved in the whole supernatural. There were cursed objects, things associated with other things, knowledge upon knowledge and all kept in several bunkers hidden all over the world.

And Sam was about to become a part of this, was able to access all this knowledge, was able to learn and to research. Well, that is if he doesn't get caught sneaking around in here as they had made it clear that this was absolutely forbidden. But then again, they probably shouldn't have brought him here in the first place, so whatever. Sam sure as hell wouldn't let a opportunity like this pass.

He grinned to himself as he stepped closer to the shelves and his eyes roamed over used tires and greasy tools. Then he spotted something out of the corner of his eyes. He turned around fully and stared at the car, which was standing in the far corner across from him. It was covered completely with a heavy, dusty cloth and Sam stepped closer, hand reaching out to wrap around the stiff fabric. The fabric of the brownish cloth felt like wax beneath his fingers. It was rigid and smelled like moths and dust; a smell Sam loved in combination with books but this just made him cough.

Sam slightly pulled on the fabric, he didn't want to pull it off, just adjust it; but as soon as his fingers wrapped around the cloth and gave it a pull, it moved like it was made out of silk. It was soft and flowy and it slid smoothly off the car in fluttering waves, revealing black and chrome. It wasn't until the cloth slid over the roof and down the right side to pool on the ground next to the car that Sam had to take a few steps back.

Because he needed to see the whole car.

It was black and sleek and Sam had no idea what kind of man would drive such a beauty. The edges were smooth and the black paint was glossy and polished, shining like the first day it had left production. The grill was facing Sam and he could make out the cursive Chevrolet on the right side of it. It was standing there proud and ready to use, ready to face whatever evil was coming upon it, like it was the one fighting it and not the one driving this car. Because whoever owned that car was not a Men of Letters, that was something Sam was sure of. Once it was revealed it definitely outshine everything else in this garage, and it drew Sam in like nothing else he had ever seen. He never was interested in cars as much as his Dad but he just couldn't take his eyes of this particular car. He almost feared that this car was cursed or something.

There were no license plates attached and Sam's eyes got drawn towards the tiny white paper in the right corner of the windshield. He held his breath as he stepped closer to read what the note said, but he didn't dare to touch the car. 

 _Item 211: Chevrolet Impala, 1967 model. Property of Dean Winchester_.  
_(Signed, August 18th 1958: H. Winchester)_

The year of the car was smudged but someone had added the numbers by hand over the spot of smeared ink. It was the first thing that Sam noticed and he stared at spot with narrowed eyes. It was like someone had smudged the year on purpose, to keep the actual details unclear. The second thing he noticed was his grandfather's signature and the year he had signed it, which was weird as the later added numbers to the built year were after the date it was brought here. It was a mistake in a place where no mistakes were made and Sam almost spent more time thinking about it but his eyes caught hold on the name of the owner of the car.

This one took longer to take in than anything else.

Sam had heard stories about Dean Winchester.

Like other kids had heard stories about the monster under their bed. Or the house at the end of the street they shouldn't go in as there was a serial killer living in there. Or a witch. Or some ghost, which died a violent death in there.

Dean Winchester was this to Sam.

And he couldn't get enough of the stories, which were told about this man. His Dad had always been anxious about hunters and didn't allowed Sam to ask question about a hunter's life. This was the one subject his dad had refused to tell him about. He had called them rogue and bloody-minded, always reminding Sam that as a Man of Letters he would know better and should stay away from them. They were no help, just out there to kill uncontrollably. They only caused trouble and destruction. This was the only time when his mother would interfere and roll her eyes while she called Dad a hypocrite. And that not all hunters were like the ones John had met.

Sam had known about Samuel as soon as he had known about the supernatural. His Dad had made sure that he was prepared well enough and sadly it involved solving the big family mystery that surrounded the Campbells. He had never met Samuel and Deanna until he was 10 years old though and his Dad made damn sure that they wouldn't spend one minute alone with Sam. It was always a tense family reunion, even though Sam quite liked them and wished he could see them more often. But funnily the only thing Mary and John had always agreed on was Sam staying away from them or visiting him under strict supervision from his parents.

Once Sam had left for Stanford he had sometimes played with the thought to call Samuel. To asked him some questions. Because as much as Sam wanted to read about the monsters, he always asked himself what it would be like to be out there.

Hunting them.

The first time he had heard about Dean Winchester, he had just turned 10. Samuel and Deanna had been visiting that day and it was awkward as Sam couldn't remember them. His mom had told him that they had come seen him when he was a baby and a toddler but that was a long time ago and Sam didn't remember at all. Sure, they sent cards and he's seen pictures of them but it wasn't the same. It was past his bed time and his mom had brought him to bed already, yet he had snuck out to listen from the top of the stairs to the adults, who were still talking in the living room. His grandparents would leave soon as they only came for one day but it looked like they still had something to talk about with his parents.

"And the son of a bitch had apparently just killed him." Sam had heard Samuel say and then his father scoffed. "He killed him? That's impossible."

"I'm telling you, he's dead. I saw it with my own eyes." Samuel continued and then it sounded like he was drinking something. "That bastard had killed them all. There were at least thirty if not more, but the alpha vampire was among them."

His dad was quiet for a moment. "And you are sure it was him?"

"Well…," Samuel began. "I haven't exactly seen him but there were three other hunters and they did, at least they told me. I knew they didn't kill that nest."

"Dean Winchester." His dad sighed. "Maybe the stories are true."

"Maybe." Samuel replied. "But then…. if they are, I'm not sure if that is really a good thing."

That alone had peaked Sam's interest and the day after he had tried to get something out of his dad or his mom but they both had told him to quit asking. After that Dean Winchester was an even greater taboo topic than hunters in general were.

It was his other grandfather, Henry, who had provided him with the stories. Apparently he was okay as his parents were more than willing to let Sam stay at his place on some weekends for a sleepover and Sam loved Henry. He told Sam so much more than John and Mary did and his place was full of books and weird stuff and as a kid Sam had always pretended that his grandfather's house would be the Men of Letters bunker as he had played there by himself. Henry was probably the one person that was more obsessed with Dean Winchester than Sam was.

Sam knew that they shared the same last name and that Henry had spent years of family research among their ancestors to find if there was a connection to the hunter. But he couldn't find any and after that he tried different blood lines but it was like Dean Winchester had appeared just out of nowhere.

At least that would fit to the stories that Henry had told Sam despite his father's spoken prohibition. When Sam had asked Henry, his grandfather was more than willing to tell him. He had actually met Dean Winchester himself, back in 1958, when Dean Winchester had saved the Men of Letters. Apparently the society was in danger and had a demon amongst them, who was about to kill them all but Dean Winchester had appeared out of nowhere and killed the demon before she could hurt even one of them. Now Sam remembered faintly that his grandfather had talked about a car but he couldn't remember what exactly.

After that Dean Winchester had disappeared though and only showed himself every now and then. There were several incidents with demons but his grandfather had refused to tell him the one that had involved a demon with apparently yellow eyes, just because the story was too horrid for a kid. And Sam actually believed him as he saw how his grandfather got all pale and started to heave, so he dropped that one.

During the years when he got older, Sam found several more stories about Dean Winchester, online and also written down by other hunters. They retold stories from him going to Hell and coming back to him killing Lucifer himself. Sam wasn't sure what exactly to believe but the fact that Dean Winchester was a freaking legend.

And this was apparently his car.

All those years where he had tried to picture what he looked like (sources also said that he was fucking handsome and Sam didn't really understand why that pissed everyone off even more) but he had actually never thought about what his car would look like.

But this is _definitely_ how Dean Winchester's car should look like.

Before he had even realized it, he was touching the car. He had been so deep in thoughts that he didn't even noticed how his hand had started to reach out for the car and finally ran his fingers over the black paint. Now that fact actually made Sam jump back in surprise and he clamped his other hand around his wrist, like he was expecting his hand to fall off any second.

Nothing happened though.

He frowned and took two steps towards the car before he reached out again and let his fingers run along the chrome. The air was so heavy, so thick with something that Sam expected an electrical shock or something. But nothing happened.

He let his finger roam further along the side until his hand hovered over the door handle. Sam figured he might run out of luck at some point but when he tested if the car was unlocked, that moment wasn't now. The door creaked when he pulled it open and it was heavier then he expected, so he only held it just long enough for him to slip inside before he let it fall shut again. He had been holding his breath the whole time and once the door fell shut he let the air out and took a new deep breath.

It smelled liked leather. Sam took another deep breath and placed his palm flat on the seat. The interior was all leather and his hand caressed over the material while his eyes wandered over the dashboard and over to the glove compartment. Everything was all polish and dusted and matched the shining look from the outside. Someone was taking care of this item more than he needed and it made Sam smile without knowing why.

He ran his hands over the steering wheel, eyes still moving around the car's front while he breathed in and out evenly. He glanced over to the glove compartment again before he decided to lean over and try to open it. It was stuck at first, so he pulled harder and once he had wrung it open, Sam frowned. It was empty. Yet when he straightened up again his glance was caught by something that dangled from the rear-view mirror.

And strangely Sam could have sworn that it wasn't there before.

It was a necklace and it was moving, the golden amulet at the end slowly swinging back and forth. Automatically Sam reached out and took the necklace off the mirror, letting the leather band run through his finger until he reached the amulet. It was golden and heavy but he instinctively wrapped his fist around it tightly.

 

 

 

_It was like being woken up out of the blue. He could have sworn that his eyes were open, yet it felt like he had just torn them open after being ripped away from sleep. He was someplace else, not physically, at least he didn't think so, but he wasn't in the bunker anymore. It was a hotel room of some sort, a king size bed was on one side of the room, white sheets rumbled. It was like Sam was forced into one corner of the room, like he was told to sit on the floor even. he looked up to stare at the backside of a man, leatherjacket covering his shoulders. He only saw a glimpse of hair but couldn't grasp the color, and he couldn't see a face. The man was standing in front of him, leg's apart as he was standing his ground, obviously keeping himself between Sam and something else. Which is what Sam spotted next. A women was kneeling on the ground in front of Sam, blood was running down the side of her face while she coughed widely. Oddly Sam could have sworn that he was black smoke coming out of her mouth but he must have been mistaken. She held her right wrist with her other hand and her leg was standing in an odd angle away from her. It was clear that she couldn't get up anymore. The stranger was standing in between them, still not moving as Sam saw his head bow down. He hovered over the injured woman in an intimidating way and Sam wasn't quite sure who he needed to focus on._

_"Please…," The woman whimpered. "Please help me."_

_She coughed once again and this time it was blood that came out of her mouth. She spit it on the floor but there was some running down the corner of her mouth. She looked over and caught Sam's eyes. "Please make him stop."_

_"Shut up!" The man growled and Sam jumped at the sound of his voice. "Don't you even dare speak to him."_

_"Please, Sam." She coughed up some more blood. There was a bullet wound in her right temple, the skin around the entry wound was burned and black, and blood was running out of it. "He's hurting me, Sam."_

_"I said shut up!" A gun was fired and Sam jerked back at the unexpected sound. He panted as he saw the woman fall into a pool of blood. A second bullet wound was right between her eyes. "Don't make me drag your fucking ass back into hell, you black-eyed bitch."_

_"Sammy, are you alright?" The stranger turned around but Sam couldn't look up and see who was talking to him. His focus was on the woman, who was laying lifeless on the ground and he somehow knew that she wasn't dead yet. On cue she opened her eyes. They were black and Sam tried to scream something but no words were coming out and within the blink of an eye she was standing behind the man who had tried to protect Sam and she drove a weird looking blade into the stranger's back._

_There was a choking sound and Sam once again had the urge to scream something but he couldn't. He still couldn't take a look at the stranger, who was howling in pain because his focus was on the woman, who was laughing manically. Sam didn't know what to do as the woman slowly turned her head, black eyes focusing on him._

_"Well, who had expected this outcome though?" She laughed once more as she was stepping closer to Sam, pushing the stranger away. The man was writhing on the ground but even then Sam couldn't see what he looked like. He stared up at the woman, who clearly wasn't human, and he desperately wanted to scramble away but he couldn't move. "See, I told you that you should have stayed holed up in that bunker of yours like all the other nerds. You are nothing out here in the field." She grinned as she slowly got down to eye level with him. "But then…," She looked him over. "You are someone real special if the great Dean Winchester is protecting you, aren't you?" She crooked her head and smiled._

_Sam's head whipped around to the stranger on the ground next to him before he stared back at the woman. "That's right, my dear…," She grinned before she started to reach out for him. "Ohh Sammy, what have you done?"_

 

Sam gasped for air as if he had just been under water for too long. He panted, one hand gripping the steering wheel in front of him so tight that his knuckles had turned white. Cold sweat was running down his neck and he closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths before he felt safe to open them again.

He was still sitting in the car, the Impala he had found in the bunker. The bunker of the Men of Letters. He tried to get his heart rate down, leaning back against the leather seat and letting his head drop back. He closed his eyes once more and tried to calm himself down.

He felt the amulet in his hand, which he still clutched tight with his fist. It was cold against his skin and Sam was pretty sure that everything went back to normal. He needed a few more seconds though. He deeply breathed in the safe smell of leather and oil.

After his breathing had turned back to normal, he opened his eyes and straightened himself up. Everything was still quiet, the garage was the same as before and so was the car. Sam took one more breath before he looked down and slowly opened his fist. The golden amulet was still there.

It looked normal, innocent even and Sam had no clue what had just happened. He clearly had some vision of some sort. But he was still touching the amulet now and nothing felt wrong. It was just a piece of metal.

He closed his fist around it again and tried to remember what he had seen. There was the man and the woman with the black eyes. And a blade, which looked like a bone or something, not like any knife Sam had ever seen. He couldn't remember what the stranger looked like but he did remember his name.

The woman had said it was Dean Winchester.

Whose car Sam was currently sitting in.

His heart rate started to go up again. What if it was a curse or something? Or a warning? What if he was supposed to help him? Or tell someone?

Shouldn't he tell someone?

If this was something that was about to happen then he should tell someone. But how the hell could he explain this?

And no one really knew anything about Dean Winchester, just stories and legends. No one had ever worked with him or knew where he lived. Or if he even was alive?

Sure, Sam's grandfather had met him but that was what… nearly 50 years ago. There was like no way that this man was even still alive. At least not with the lifestyle he supposedly was living.

Sam closed his fingers tighter around the necklace. But this had felt so real and he was there, wasn't he? They were talking to him, calling him Sam.

What if that was his future?

Sam stared at the amulet, which was hidden in his closed fist and he didn't know what it was but is was almost as if it was something he had lost but had forgotten that he had lost it in the first place.

"Hey!"

Sam jerked back and his first instinct was to stuff the necklace in his pants but that's when he remembered that he was only wearing his pajama pants and a shirt. He held it tighter, making sure the leather band was hidden as well before he looked up and saw a young man standing in front of the car, looking amused and angry at the same time.

"You! Come out of there!"

Sam scrambled to get out of the car, hitting his knees and shins and his head in the process and he cursed until he was standing outside of the car in the garage again, closing the car door with a firm bang.

"Who the hell are you?" The man had crossed his arms in front of him, looking at Sam and taking in his clothes. He raised his eyebrow in question.

"Uhm… Sam." He answered and blinked at the man, who was obviously a Man of Letters. "Sam Winchester."

"John's kid." The man nodded and then chuckled before he rubbed a hand across his face. "Winchester? You guys and this car. I just don't get it."

"What do you mean?" Sam was stepping closer, feeling that the man was not as angry as Sam had thought he was. He kept his hand slightly behind his body though.

"Well Henry, he literally worships this car, yet he always wants to keep it under this cloth. And John put so many hours into it, yet he never could make it run." The man shook his head and chuckled.

"It's broken?"

"Well, not really, we don't know. The engine's fine, everything is supposed to work smoothly, Hell, your father rebuilt it about three times or so but we just can't get it running." The man grinned. "Looks like this fine lady has given away her heart as well as her key. It's almost like she refuses to start. That car is weird, besides the obvious."

"The obvious?" Sam asked, and he was actually glad that the man was so chatty and also seemed to overlook the fact that he wasn't supposed to be here.

"That car was build in 1967, yet your grandfather brought it here in '58. If that's not obvious then I don't know."

"Oh." Sam made it sound like he was surprised. "I though that was a mistake."

The man shrugged. "Not really. But then, it's not like we don't know our fair share about time travel. But bringing back a whole car? That is definitely a new one."

"Time travel?" Sam swallowed.

The man laughed. "You are one of the young legacies, huh?" He grinned as he walked by Sam and started to pull at the cloth to cover the car back up. Sam took that opportunity to slip the necklace over his head and hide the amulet under his shirt before he stepped over to help the man.

"Yeah." Sam confessed sheepishly. The man just laughed and together they managed to get the car covered back up. Sam stepped back as the man checked once more that the car was completely covered. He then came to Sam and held his hand out. "I'm Scott by the way." He smiled. "Scott Douglas, I belong to the last group of legacies."

Sam grinned. "So you already work here then?"

Scott laughed. "Well, my initiation was about six years ago, so I guess I now can say yes, I do. But I'm still stuck in the garage here, maintaining the cars, so it's not like they let me go wild on the good stuff." He winked. "Each year you will gain more responsibility. But I know how you feel, man." He patted Sam on the shoulder. "You hear all your life about this place and then you get a few hours here for the initiation and after that you are stuck studying and have to wait years before you are actually allowed back here again."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well, I just wanted to see, you know. Get a glimpse."

Scott smirked. "I know. See, I was already allowed to make some messenger jobs between the bunker and some other places after three years. Work hard and you will return faster then you can think."

"Thanks." Sam smiled. "And I'm sorry for, you know, breaking in here."

Scott waved his hand. "Don't mention it."

"So…," Sam bit his lip, knowing that he was running out of time soon. "This car. Does it really belong to Dean Winchester?" He nodded to the Impala, which was hidden underneath the cloth again.

Scott looked at him for a minute in silent before he shrugged. "I guess so. Your grandfather was the one, who claimed it was his. You know that Dean Winchester is the hunter that saved our society in 1958? And after that he had given this car to Henry, at least that's what I heard."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I heard about the incident in '58. Not about the car though. My grandfather never mentioned it before to be honest."

"There are many versions of what happened but my father actually told me that the thing trying to kill all the Men of Letters was a Knight of Hell, a demon named Abaddon. She had possessed one of the members and was just about to put her plan into action but before anyone could even react, this man suddenly bust into the building and it was told that all he had to do was stroll over and stab her."

"Just like that?" Sam asked.

Scott shrugged again. "Apparently. At least that's what the stories say."

Sam's look wandered over the covered car once more and he swallowed. He really didn't know what to think.

"So, Sam." Scott interrupted him in his thoughts. "How about you get back to your room and we will forget this little meeting, huh?"

"Oh of course, sorry." Sam shook his head and smiled at Scott before he started to hurry towards the stairs. Once he reached them, he turned around again. "Thanks."

Scott made a gesture that he should leave. "Good luck tomorrow on the initiation."

Sam grinned and with one last glance towards the Impala he hurried down the stairs before he vanished through the metal doors. He poked along the corridors until he reached the door with the bold 23 attached to it. He slipped inside, holding his breath as if he had expected someone waiting inside for him, convicting him for leaving his room and sneaking around the bunker, even though he was allowed to do that.

But his room was empty and Sam fell on the bed with a heavy sigh, hand automatically going up to grasp the amulet through his shirt.

He had felt it laying heavily against his chest this whole time.

 

* * *

 

The rooms were simple. A bed, a nightstand, a dresser, a desk and a sink with a mirror in the corner. Sam had stayed someplace worse during his first week of college.

He had imagined it like this though. Stories from his dad and grandfather had made him create an image on what it would look like in the bunker, based on their words. It was close, really close, only he had hoped for more personal detail.

But the rooms were plain, clean and only hold the most necessary items. Nothing else.

Showers were separate down the hall, so was the kitchen and the dining room. Bathrooms as well. Of course Sam knew that no one was actually fully living there and that everyone had a family or at least a home they would return to. They worked in shifts he guessed and other than that, they traveled and collected, went to check out libraries or private collections that could be of interest.

His dad was doing that at least. He worked from home, translation and summarization, but he also worked at the local auto shop as mechanic for a few days. And once in a while he would need to travel and then return to the bunker to report or he would take all the work he did at home and would it bring here, meet with other members and converse. Sam could remember that he told him that he had to stay here once in while for a few days and that's why they have rooms here. Whenever one needed one, he could stay as long as his stay required him to stay.

That's why Sam guessed the rooms weren't personalized.

They grew more open with the bunker in the last years, at least that's what Henry had told him. Of course it was still hidden and a secret but every Man of Letters was welcome to enter and stay, even one from a different nation. That's why Sam's and the other initiations were held here as well.

It would be the first step on becoming a Man of Letters.

John had told him that with him, two others would be initiated as well and they were also here tonight. Tomorrow would be the start of initiation and he and the others would officially become Men of Letters. Initiation would last two days and tomorrow after initiation, he would be on his way to Lawrence and after that on his way back to California.

He might be a Man of Letters then but that didn't mean that he was actually a _Man of Letters_.

The thing they called initiation was only for legacies, for sons of members that would inherit their father's place. John was a Man of Letters and so was Henry before him. It was their legacies that prepared Sam for this day. They had taught him Latin, Greek and Enochian, made him read books over books, and memorize protection symbols and spells. He had always known that this day would come, they had always told him what they wanted him to become.

And Sam sucked everything in. He was obsessed with learning all the books, information and knowledge, and even though he got bullied in school for being such a freaky nerd, he had never disgraced the legacy. Becoming a Man of Letters was the one thing Sam was always sure he wanted.

Well, besides going to Stanford.

But that was never a problem of course, as he wouldn't drop everything once he was initiated. Becoming a real and respected member of the society required hard work. After tomorrow he would return to Stanford and continue his schooling. He would continue studying law and focus on everything but now he just had to do some extra curricular work that was given to him from the society. He would learn more languages, train to do translations, research, write reports and sometimes even visit another member, who would teach him something new. Step by step he would get integrated in their knowledge until the day were he would fully be accepted in the circle and would do his own research and projects. Only then, they would allow him access to all their knowledge. And that meant access to the bunker.

On his way here, his dad had told him that he was the youngest of the three legacies. Initiations aren‘t held every year, which explained the limited members in the society, and of course not all of them have children - and even if they do, some of them might only have daughters. Therefore the legacies could be years apart as they just belonged to the next patch of legacies. His dad had explained that it always depended if there were kids born. Sometimes they would initiate two legacies that were 10 years apart because they were the only two that were born during that time. The last initiation was six years ago, and everyone who was born between 1970 and 1978 was part if it. Well, there were only two people that time (Scott was one of them then), so it never was like ten legacies would suddenly storm the bunker. Actually, Sam's group with three legacies was the biggest in almost thirty years. He belonged to the group that was born between 1979 and 1985. His dad told him that another member had a daughter, who was born just a year after Sam but she was a girl, so she wasn't qualified and the next legacy was born in 1986, so the next group would start there.

As for the ones starting initiation with Sam tomorrow, they are 25 and 24, but Sam had never met them before. He saw them briefly as they arrived at the same time John and he did, but John had only talked quickly to their fathers and then they all went separate ways. Probably he would learn their names tomorrow but then Sam didn't know if they were given time to get to know each other or even speak with each other or not. He would have to wait and see, he guessed.

But he did know that right after the initiation, they would leave again. His Dad would drive them back to Lawrence, where he would stay the night and then on Sunday, he would go back to California again, as Monday was a regular school day. He knew that the initiation would be this weekend for almost a year now and he couldn't have waited any longer. He had to sacrifice two school days, so he could drive to Kansas but it was completely worth it. And it wasn't like Sam really needed those two days. He was ahead of his schedule, which was harder to achieve than it sounded like and it cost him many sleepless days and nights.

He didn't tell Jess about it yet and he tried to keep it that way. His life might not be at risk like the life of a hunter was but this was still a secret society and the knowledge they kept safe wasn't something you go and tell your college girlfriend about. No matter how much you love her.

His parents definitely were an exception for that and his dad had told him quite the stories about how he didn't know how to keep Mary out of it in the beginning once they first started dating. And she had tried so hard to keep him away from her family, especially as Samuel had basically hated John. Only when they visited Henry for the first time, the big secret was revealed and they both learned that there was no secret that needed to be kept hidden. Mary grew up as a hunter ('Well, more or less,' his mom had said at some point. 'It wasn't like I liked it. I knew how to keep myself safe but other than that, I realized pretty soon that this wasn't the life I wanted.'). She never wanted to pursue it, so it was clear from the beginning that if John wanted to become a Man of Letters, he could but she didn't want to have anything to do with it. ('Aren't you afraid that Daddy could get hurt?' Sam had asked one night when he was five and she had just chuckled as she had tugged him in. 'From what? Dust inhalation.' She had kissed Sam on the forehead and assured him that even though she didn't like it, the Men of Letters would be the only thing she could accept and that his Daddy was perfectly safe there.)

She wouldn’t allow supernatural talk in the house though. It really was the one thing she was strict about. So his dad saved it for the days when he brought Sam to bed, when he was younger, telling him about the creatures out there, making the world shine in a whole new light. When Sam got older and it became clear that his dad wanted him to join the society, his Mom threw a fit. Of course she knew the day Sam was born that this day would come but it seemed like she still had hoped that it wouldn't. Sometimes Sam was sure that she had always hoped that he would be a girl instead. The one thing that could have kept him away from all this.

He knew about his mother’s dislike towards the supernatural, never exactly understood why though. She did know that his dad was teaching Sam and telling him about it and she had accepted it reluctantly with a sigh a long time ago. ('I don't want him in this life, John. You knew that.' His mom had shouted during one particular heavy fight that Sam eavesdropped on. 'Mary, listen to me. Our boy is the smartest in his class, he’s talented and organized, he is born to do this.' His dad had answered and Sam had heard his mother exhale angrily but the discussion was over with that.)

She didn't support it directly but Sam knew she was proud of him either way, so he never asked more from her. The whole thing was straining her enough. It was good during the time he was a kid but he had noticed it during the last weeks that she had gotten more nervous, had heard it in her voice whenever she had called him at Stanford. The initiation was close and she knew that after that there was no return. Sam would be a Man of Letters and that meant that at some point now, his children would be part of it as well.

He never was supposed to be a single child.

He didn't know it until he was 15. His family wasn't exactly picture perfect and his parents fought now and then but he always would remember the biggest fight they ever had. The one that made his dad leave angry to go work at some motel and left his mom crying in the living room. For once it wasn't about him and his future.

He went to comfort her, had wrapped his arms around her and then a blanket around the both of them. And then he just waited for her to calm down. That's when she first told him that he actually was supposed to be a little brother. Four years before she got pregnant with Sam, she was pregnant with his older brother. She told him that it wasn't exactly planned but that John and she were just purely delighted over the news. She went to the doctors and had told her parents and Henry but after about three weeks into the pregnancy, the baby had disappeared. Like literally. On her second appointment the doctor had told her that there was no baby, that she wasn't pregnant at all and that there wasn't even a sign that she ever was and even might have lost the baby. There was disappointment of course, so it was probably just a mistake.

When his mom was telling him the story, she just spat out the word mistake as if it was the worst existing word ever. ('There was no mistake, Sam. I knew it, I felt that there was a life growing in me. It sounds stupid I know but I just knew.') She told him that it was everything but a mistake. That she had always known that something had taken her baby away from her. That's what the fight was about in the first place. John had argued that there never was a baby while she strongly believed there was.

But there was nothing that she could do about it back then and so she just continued to try to get pregnant again. ('It was like a curse.' She had smiled and wiped the tears from her cheek. 'We tried four years and nothing happened and then after those four years it was like someone finally allowed it and then we had you.')

Sam had known that they tried to get another baby after him but it never worked. He secretly thought that his mom was probably hoping for a girl this time, so there would be a least one person she could keep away from all this, that's why she so desperately wanted to try again. It was the one topic that caused the most riffs between his parents and it wasn't the first time they fought about it.

Sam didn't know how long they had tried (or if they had ever stopped) but apparently it wasn't supposed to happen. He knew that much.

And tomorrow he would finally become a Man of Letters, so there was no way back. But then he also just had to go back to Stanford and continue with his life, so it wasn't like it would be changed from one minute to the other at this instant.

He did hope that he would spend more time at this bunker though. He had arrived in Lawrence on Thursday night and his dad and he had left on Friday (today) to drive to the bunker. But it was dark once they arrived in Lebanon, Kansas and Sam was ushered inside, no time to take a closer look at the outside. Inside he had a glimpse of a giant control board with a world map on it and several LEDs blinking on it. He also saw the library to his right and he craved to stop and take a closer look there as well but his dad's hands on his shoulder gripped tighter and Sam kept walking, being guided by his father down a hallway, lined with wooden doors, which were numbered. His dad had stopped in front of the door that had the number 23 on it.

John had pushed Sam's bag in his hand and had smiled at him with a proud smile, which he hadn't lost since Sam arrived in Lawrence. ('You need to stay in here, get some sleep. We will start early tomorrow.') He squeezed Sam's shoulder one last time, then the door fell closed and Sam was left alone.

Yet, Sam couldn't stop himself.

He craved this knowledge, had an unhealthy fascination with it from the start. He wanted to know everything, know every secret, every story, every legend. And that's why he had started to sneak around at night, even though he wasn't supposed to.

Which brought him back to the Impala. To Dean Winchester. The amulet.

He had taken it off in the meantime. Laying back on the bed, he held it above him, his finger wrapped around the leather string. He stared at the amulet that dangled from his hand and took a closer look in the shine of the light on his nightstand.

He had actually stolen this from an artifact, from the bunker. He had no right to take it, it could have been cursed or worse, which was probably the reason why he had this kind of vision once he had touched it. But in the meantime he had touched it a few times again and nothing had happened. Maybe he had just imagined it.

Now in the aftermath he didn't even know why he had taken it with him.

He sighed and wanted to put it away but then he paused for a moment to just stare at it before he slowly raised his other hand. It was like he knew that this time it would be different. It even seemed like some heat was suddenly radiating off of it and before Sam could really think about it, he did wrap his hand around it.

 

_This time it was different than the first time. He wouldn't say he could expect what was about to happen but he was definitely more prepared._

_It felt calmer._

_The last time he was thrown in the middle of some tense scene, this time he was alone. He was in the same room though. The same bed and the same dresser, and as he was turning around he was pretty much sure that this was a guest room of some sort. Too nice to belong to some random motel somewhere at the side of the road but too simple for a hotel._

_He couldn't quite catch all the details as his mind suddenly focused on his hand and that it was stuffed in the pocket of his pants. And the paper, which he had tightly clasped in his hand. It was poking into his palm, so he slowly pulled his hand out and opened it, staring down at the crumpled piece of paper. It was a small business card as he noticed once he tried to smooth it out._

_He came as far as reading a name before it was over._

 

There was a flash before his eyes and he was gone for a moment before he blinked and was back in the dim room, amulet laying cold against the skin of his hand. Sam was breathing hard and actually glad that he was already laying in a bed. This vision might have been a bit calmer on the inside but it hurt more out here than the last one did. He was panting and his heart was racing, sweat was forming in his neck and he now had to sit up and put his head between his knees to be able to get some air in his lungs.

The amulet was still clasped in his hand but again, nothing felt different. Not even after he dropped it on the floor and picked it up again. But something suddenly felt so important that it was hard for him to breath.

The name of the place was flashing in front of his eyes: _Carter's Bed and Breakfast_.

That explained the look of the room. Probably a family run place, which at least made the most sense.

But the room was the same. The same as in the first vision. With the woman and the man she had called Dean Winchester. What if Sam had seen the future? What if he needed to warn someone? What if he needed to find the hunter, so he could warn him from the woman with the black eyes?

She would kill him, right?

She would kill Dean Winchester.

And Sam would be there, he was sure of that. He would be with them in that room.

Before Sam knew what he was doing, he grabbed his still packed bag, got dressed und once more stole himself out of his room, taking everything with him.

He had a feeling that he needed to do this. That only he would be able to do this. And that he couldn't involve others like his dad. That the woman with the black eyes needed to stay away from this place. That this was only a matter that concerned her and Sam.

And Dean Winchester.

The garage was empty this time, he had checked twice. He played with the thought of taking one the the cars. Or taking _the_ car. But then he would need to search for car keys and actually start the engine in here. And the garage was huge, there would definitely be some kind of echo.

He tried the double doors instead and Sam couldn't believe he could just open them. Just like that he stepped between them, one last glance going back to the car, which was standing in the corner, covered with the cloth.

One last glance before he started to walk up the ramp, closing the doors behind him.

 

* * *

 

The night air was fresh and crisp.

He was about a mile away from the bunker already. A glance to his watch showed him that it was a little after midnight, which meant that he had at least a few hours head start.

Unless they did check if he was still in his room at some point. Maybe they would send his dad to check or someone else, Sam didn't know and therefore he couldn't count on the fact that he did have a head start. Maybe they even had an silent alarm that went off when he had opened the door that led outside from the garage. But the driveway was long, he was at least ten minutes until he reached the exit and no one had come after him during that time.

The exit was deeper in the woods, by some road actually and as Sam tried to find the building he got a glimpse of when he arrived, but he couldn't. The driveway from the garage must end somewhere far away that wasn't exactly next to the entrance of the bunker.

He didn't dare to walk crossways through the woods as it was dark and he had no orientation, therefore he decided to just follow the road. It was quiet and dark, he would hopefully hear if someone approached him with a car and then he still could go hide.

Sam didn't really think at all while he was walking. Only when he spotted some streetlights through the trees, did he remember what the hell he was doing here. He had to stop for a moment, in the middle of the road. He could see the end of it, could see some houses of the city already.

Was he really doing it? Was he going to find Dean Winchester to warn him because he had a crazy vision from an amulet that had appeared while he had broken into his old car? Was he really going to say that?

Dean Winchester was a legend, the best hunter in the world and now some college student would try to find him to tell him that he was in danger? His whole fucking life was probably just a constant life threat.

But it felt like Sam needed to do it. Like he was the reason it would happen. Hadn't the woman said so?

It took him about an hour until he finally reached the first line of houses. It was a suburban area, so he walked further for a while.

He honestly had never really paid attention when his dad had started to talk about cars. But once he had showed him how to hot-wire one and somehow that's when Sam actually did pay attention. He decided to snatch one of the cars standing at the side of the road but he made sure that it was away from any street light and that all the houses near to it were dark. He was only a shadow, even if someone was watching, no one could see him.

It was the nearest unobtrusive car that he had spotted and Sam knew that he needed to move slowly. It was a rather old car, no alarm system, so getting in and getting it running was just a piece of cake. He was out of the street within seconds.

Finding main street wasn't hard either and he just followed it in one direction until he was out of the city. He had no clue yet where to go really and so he just decided to get out and away from the bunker before he would stop to check for directions.

A few miles out of town he stopped at the first gas station he encountered. He parked in the parking lot next to the shop that was stating in bright neon signs that they were open 24/7. He had to lean back and close his eyes for a moment before he took a deep breath.

He was doing this. Or at least trying. He was in that room with Winchester and the woman and according to her, Winchester was just there to protect him. So, he needed to warn the hunter, no matter what. He wouldn't wait for something to find him. He wouldn't wait for something to come after him. Maybe even to Lawrence or to Palo Alto.

He stared at his bag, which was laying on the seat next to his. Everything he would need for a few days was in there. He hadn't taken much cash with him but his credit card would work to a certain amount. His phone was in there but he knew that at some point he would need to turn it off. Or even throw it away in the worst case.

That something was maybe after him was bad, but it would be worse if his family would come after him and run into whatever evil was out there. They were Men of Letters, not freaking hunters. Calling Samuel crossed his mind for a second but his instinct told him to ignore it really, really quickly. As it was also telling him to not talk about the amulet. Or the visions.

Speaking of, he had shoved it in the front pocket of his bag but maybe it was better if he would wear it. This way he wouldn't loose it and it couldn't get stolen.

He would also need to access the internet real quick. Maybe he could search for Carter's Bed and Breakfast to know where he needed to go. And he should go and buy a map in the store. Maybe the clerk could help him out. What are the odds that this place might even be in the area?

Sam decided that this was the plan now and he reached over to dig the amulet out of the bag first before he went into the store. His fingers caught the leather string and he pulled it out, amulet flashing golden in the lights of the neon signs. He exhaled and asked himself what the hell he was even doing before he put the string over his head and let the amulet dangle over his chest. He wanted to put it under his shirt but as soon as his fingers touched the metal, it all went black.

 

_He actually cursed. That's how much he had control now, he thought and the scene started to clear around himself. This third time it was rather relaxing. He was sitting in the stolen car, the sun was shining and he was parked on the side of the road._

_He looked around the car but his bag was still there. Four cups of coffee littered the ground though and one cup was sitting in the cup holder, probably still half full and steaming. Two food wrappers were added to the mess and Sam also spotted some candy wrappers, too. Looked like he had quite the drive covered._

_His hands were around the steering wheel and that's when he finally looked up to see the sign outside, the one he was parking in front of. And then it suddenly made all sense:_

_**Welcome to Jericho, Iowa.** _

 

* * *

 

Jericho, Iowa wasn't something Sam had expected. Well, he didn't really know what he should have expected. It took him nearly a day to get there and he was at the edge of exhaustion. It was a small town, like really small and the main street he was currently driving down was anything but spectacular. There was a grocery and drug store and a post office. An auto shop that Sam wasn't sure if it was abandoned or not and a town building that looked like it held all the other things that were there. He found a diner at some corner and so he decided to stop there first.

He had no energy to drive around finding the B&B, even though it looked like he could cover the whole town in less than fifteen minutes. He wanted something to eat first and then he just could ask someone maybe. He was too tired to even think about other options at this moment.

He parked the car, hoping that no one would take a closer look. It's been several hours now and whoever the owner was, must have reported it stolen by now. But there was no police waiting for him, he wasn't stopped or controlled, so maybe the owner was gone and hadn't noticed yet or the police here were just too slow. Either way he needed to be careful with the car now.

The diner wasn't really busy, only a two people were in there as Sam entered it. For a moment he just stood there dumbly until an older woman was walking over and smiled at him warmly. Her name tag read Heather. She had black hair, which was streaked with grey strands and she was standing in front of him, hands on her hips.

"Oh boy, someone needs some caffeine." She chuckled and waved her hand around in the nearly empty diner. "Pick a seat, sweetheart."

Sam smiled and nodded, walking over to the counter. He turned around to Heather. "No coffee though, please. I already had enough. Water will do fine, I'm actually more hungry than thirsty." He nodded to the two men, who were sitting at the counter as well before he took a seat two chairs away from them.

"Sure thing, honey. We serve the best BLTs in town." She chuckled again. Sam played along, smiling at her. "Yes, that sounds great."

She grinned before she disappeared into the kitchen through two swinging doors. Sam stared after her, before he just shook his head and ran a hand over his burning eyes. This was such a bad idea.

"Long trip?"

Sam looked up and over to the side, where the two men were watching him with interest. "Yeah." Sam answered as he spotted the uniform and the sheriff's badge one of them was wearing. The other one was dressed normally in jeans and flannel.

“What brings you to this godforsaken place, boy?” The sheriff was looking at him with a certain amount of suspicion. His eyes even traveled outside to the car, which could be seen standing in the parking lot through the huge windows. Sam swallowed at that reaction. He tried to wake himself up a little. "Nothing really. Just driving through. But I underestimated the distance and I'm too tired to continue. Is there maybe a place where I could stay over night?" Sam tried to be as subtle as possible. No need to tell random people that he was looking for a man, whose job it was to kill monsters.

Heather choose that moment to come back, Sam's plate in her hand. She placed it in front of him and he thanked her but he watched her getting him a glass of water.

"Send him to Carter." The other man grumbled with a deep voice. "I just talked to Anne this morning. She has still some rooms."

"Yes." Heather replied and she put Sam's glass down. "Carter's Bed and Breakfast is just out of town, the last house if you continue down main street."

Sam nodded but before he could say anything, Heather continued. "Let me call for you. I will tell Anne and once you go there, everything will be prepared already." She walked away without waiting for an answer.

"Thanks." Sam mumbled under his breath. He started to eat as the glances the men were giving him continued. This was definitely the most stupid stunt he ever pulled in his life. He was almost out of money, the cash would be gone once he paid for this food. He needed to use his credit card on gas already and if he was lucky it would last to pay for one night the the B&B. Two if the prices were affordable.

He thought about calling Jess for a second but he had to turn off his phone and take the card out. It would have run out of battery eventually but it was 6am when his dad had called him the first time. After the third call, Sam had turned it off. He couldn't throw it away because once he would go back, there was no way that he could just buy a new one.

It hit him now how much he hadn't thought this through. There was like no way that the money would be enough for him to get back. And did he actually want to stay at the B&B? He hadn't thought about all this and now he had ended up in a small town, where everyone obviously knew about everything. And he drove here with a stolen car.

He inhaled the rest of his food before he drowned it with the ice-cold water. He paid for it and thanked Heather again for the food and the help with the B&B before he declared that now it really was time for him to get some sleep. He nodded to the officer, whose eyes were following him outside.

Sam got in the car and tried to act normal. No time to sit there and think. He waited until the men inside the diner had turned around again to speak with Heather before he hot-wired the car. He pulled out and drove down main street until he spotted the last house.

 _Carter's Bed and Breakfast_ was a small house and Sam doubted that they had more than five rooms. But it was cute, a victorian style house and once he parked the car in front it, he realized how tired he actually was. There was no way that he could stay awake any longer. So getting some sleep was the best idea right now. He grabbed his bag and headed inside.

Anne was obviously already waiting for him because once he entered, she was smiling brightly from behind her desk. "Ahh you must be the one that H sent over." She was maybe a few years older than Sam, hair blond and long, which she put behind her ears now as it kept falling in her face. She smiled even more as Sam came closer. He noticed that she had been reading a book, which she had put aside, so now she was ready to check Sam in.

Sam nodded and placed his credit card in front of her. "Yes, I will need one room for the night."

"No problem, we only have one other guest. Still plenty of room." She grinned and grabbed his card, typing in the information in her computer. "Winchester… oh," She stopped and looked up.

Sam sobered for a moment. One other guest, she had said. What if…

"Like the rifle, huh?" She laughed and continued typing.

Sam ran a hand over his face, exhaling exhausted. This was going to be a long night.

"Okay, you are all set." She gave him the card back and placed a set of keys next to it. "Just up the stairs and the third room on the left." She waved over to the staircase that led onto the next floor. Sam nodded and grabbed his stuff before he paused.

"Actually, I just got off the phone with my dad, telling him that I would arrive later and he was telling me that a family friend was living in this area. Is there any chance that you know someone else by the name Dean?" Sam figured that he had not much time and therefore asking directly might be his best shot.

"Dean?" Anne answered, obviously thinking. "No, sorry, doesn't really ring a bell. What does he look like? Maybe I've seen him around after all?"

"H-handsome?" It was the first thing that came to his mind and Sam cursed himself as Anne raised an eyebrow at him.

"I just, never mind. I will just ask my dad for an address." Sam said quickly and laughed before he took his stuff and walked up the stairs to get to his room, making sure to keep his blushing head straight forward.

He went down the hallway and stopped at the third door before he jammed the keys in and opened it. Once he stepped inside the room he stopped.

"Holy shit." Sam exhaled and dropped his bag carelessly to the ground. He took a few more steps inside before he turned around to stare at the bed and the dresser and he knew exactly where everything was supposed to be. He already knew, which meant that this room was exactly the room from his vision. Visions.

Everything was in place, like Sam had seen it. He cursed again before he pulled the keys from the door and closed it behind himself. He threw the keys together with his wallet and his jacket on the bed, ignored the bag as he made a beeline for the bathroom.

He needed a shower first. He stripped out of his clothes and took the amulet off as well, placing it on top of the pile of clothes. He waited until the water was hot before he stepped inside, chuckling as he remembered how one time Jess bitched about the temperature when she had joined him spontaneously. He liked the water hot, so hot it was streaking his skin red.

He scrubbed the grease and sweat from spending an entire day in the car off of him and sighed as he just let the water fall down on him. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

He had no clue how he was supposed to find Dean Winchester. He couldn't just go around ask for the hunter and present his name to everyone. What if someone was looking for him? What if someone was working with the woman?

And just asking for someone called Dean turned out to be stupid as well. Really, really stupid. Sam closed his eyes and tried not to blush again. He could use a different name anyway.

Maybe he wasn't even here yet. Maybe he was supposed to travel through the town, a stranger like Sam. And unless he knew what Winchester looked like, this one was a bust, too. Maybe he was the other guest already but Sam would never know.

He probably should go down to Anne again and give it a new try. Or to the diner.

Sam knew he hadn't the time or money to stay longer than necessary. The room price would allow him another night but then that would be it. He couldn't wait a week for Dean Winchester. He couldn't even wait three days. And he knew that he had to ditch the car eventually as well.

Sam turned off the water and sighed as he stepped outside and reached for one of the white towels, drying himself before he wrapped it around his hip. He combed his fingers through his hair, tried to disentangle the strands as he pushed them back and out of his eyes.

He was still tired, so he decided to go down to ask Anne one more time before he hit the bed. It wasn't really late yet, so he was sure that he could get up early instead.

Sam yawned and bend down to grab the amulet off the pile. But once his fingers streaked the golden pendant, everything went black once again.

 

_The sun was shining in his back. He was hot and sweaty and thirsty like hell._

_He blinked against the bright light before staring up at the gigantic house in front of him. Once again the details blurred, too unclear for Sam to grasp but he was thinking about how Victorian it looked._

_A gleam caught his eye and he had to blink against the ray of sun that was reflected off what looked like a golden plate of some sort. He had to step closer to see it. It was bright and he blinked again, stars in front of his eyes. But once he got closer he could make out that the plate was attached to a one of two pillars that framed a flight of stone stairs._

_He held his hand out to protect himself from the reflection of the sun. Now he was able to read the engraving on the sign, which wasn't as golden as he thought. It was tarnished and old, not polished and new. The metal was bent slightly and one of the screws was missing. Sam blinked again, hand protecting his eyes from the light as he read what the sign said:_

_**Hunter's Manor. Established 1894.**  
_

 

When he opened his eyes again, he was laying on the floor. His head hurt from hitting the tiles and he groaned as he slowly tried to sit up. He got dizzy and a wave of nausea washed over him. The clink of metal hitting the tiles distracted him. The amulet was laying in front of him, it fell out of his hand once he tried to sit up.

It laid there innocently and Sam frowned but reached out to pick it up again. Again nothing happened and he just cursed and threw it in the sink before he pulled himself up. He needed a few more minutes before he was sure that everything was okay. He ignored the towel that lay discarded on the floor as it must have slipped off of him. Instead he went back into the room to search for new clothes, which he could put on quickly.

After he had put on some jeans and a shirt he ran his fingers through his damp hair again. He took one more deep breath before he grabbed the room key and slipped outside.

Now he had a new clue and all he needed to do was ask.

 

Anne was still sitting behind the desk, book back in her lap and she was reading it with a concentrated expression. Sam made sure to make his steps heavy, which was hard as he wasn't wearing any shoes. He cleared his throat and Anne looked up, surprised as she spotted him.

"Hey." She smiled and put her book away. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." Sam came closer. "Everything's fine." He smiled.

"I do have a question though." He added as soon as Anne was about to reach for her book again. She paused and looked up. "Hm?"

"Do you know a place called Hunter's Manor?"

She narrowed her eyes and gave Sam another once over. "Yes, why?"

"Can you give me some directions to it?" Sam asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

She shrugged. "It's outside town, just keep on going on the same road that brought you here. After a few miles turn left on Mellow Creek Road and follow it." She looked up. "But it's forbidden to go there, so you better stay away."

"Forbidden?" Sam asked puzzled.

Anne shrugged again before she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "It's private property, this huge farmland area that is surrounded by a ring of trees, and the manor apparently right in the middle of it. Back in the day, the kids of this town made a dare out of it to go there. My grandpa has seen the Manor with his own eyes, he even told me once." She shuddered. "Said it was really impressive and old; creepy if not. He still believes that it is haunted."

"And is it?" He asked. "Haunted, I mean."

She sighed. "I've never been there. My grandpa and his best friend were the only ones that have ever been to the house, sometimes back in the 40s. No one really came that far, they all bailed before they could make it or they got lost in the woods. But nothing ever happened, it was just all these legends that changed from generation to generation. My grandpa said that when he was a boy it was just this haunted house, creepy and old but no one was living there. When my dad was young, there was suddenly the rumor that a serial killer was living in there, a vampire, a ghost and everything else you could imagine." She smiled sadly. "Like I said, they were all just stories about the local place that creeped everyone out. But then my dad and four of his friends went there on a dare one night and only three of them came back. They found the corpses of the other two laying in the creek the next day."

She took a deep breath. "After that the police closed it off. The owner of the property is almost as big as the mystery about the property itself, so no one knows, who he is. Our sheriff and the ones from the other towns around still make sure that no one is going too far down Mellow Creek Road. They patrol there to keep the teenagers away."

"How did they die? Your dad's friends?" Sam carefully broached the subject again.

She once again just shrugged. "I don't know. Some say a wild animal did it, some say they drowned, some say they just fell and hit their heads hard. Not even my dad knows what really happened. According to him, they just got separated but the woods were quiet, no sounds or screams or anything."

"Sorry to hear that." Sam said before he added. "And what is the legend now?"

"Now?" She asked while she crooked her head.

"Yes, you said it changed from generation to generation. What is the current story they tell about the place?" Sam brought out his best smile.

"My friends recently tried to get in there, those idiots. They got lost like the others too but Neil, who is a little weird anyway, swore that he had made it to the manor and that he had seen his owner. A guy covered in scars, with a gun and a knife. He had tried to kill Neil but he escaped before the guy could take him, but he screamed after him that he would hunt down everyone that would enter the woods again, like he did all these years ago with the two other boys." She shook her head an scoffed. "I know Neil, he is always living in a slightly different world. Everyone my age knows that, too, so we didn't really take him seriously. The younger ones unfortunately do and so the story they currently tell at sleepovers is that the ghost of the owner has returned after all these years. There are apparently stone markers in the woods that mark where the private property starts. They say that once you cross that line, the owner will appear and shoot you." She returned Sam's smile while she took one of her blond strands and twisted it around her finger. "I have a little sister, she actually just told me this one a few days ago."

"So it's back to serial killer again." Sam chuckled.

"I guess so." Anne replied, this time reaching for her book and placing it on her lap. It was obviously a sign that this conversation was over soon as her flirting hadn't really hit home yet. "But like I said, the police will cover the place and you aren't even a local. If I were you, I would stay away. Legends or not, the place is creepy as hell and you will probably get lost anyway." She opened her book and coldly started to ignore Sam.

He grimaced but turned around and went up the stairs to walk back to his room. Once he closed the door behind him again, he grinned. Now this was a clue he was willing to go after. He did believe in ghosts, no question there but the amulet had clearly shown him the next place he needed to go.

He had the directions in his head from his conversation with Anne and while he changed into his pajamas, he decided that tomorrow he would go there to check out what all these legends were about. Whoever he would find there, they would be the next step Sam needed to get closer to finding Dean Winchester.

 

* * *

 

Even though Anne hadn't been that detailed, he still had no problem finding the road the next morning.

He had left the Bed and Breakfast around 6am as he just couldn't sleep anymore. He had packed his bag and told Anne downstairs that he wanted to go and find that 'family friend'. If he wasn't back before the check-out time, then she should just add another night to his credit card. She hadn't said much but nodded and after that Sam had asked her for directions to a town that was about ten miles away from Jericho, just to keep her from assuming other things. Then he had hot-wired the car once more and started to drive down the road that would bring him out of town.

He saw the old, rotten sign that once said Mellow Creek Road just to notice how the Mellow was scratched out of the wooden sign and someone had put Killer in an angry red graffiti over it. The paint was faded though and the sign was only held by one nail, the edges chipped and broken as if no one had dared to put a new sign up there for decades.

There were fields everywhere, framing the road and showing Sam that he definitely was somewhere far away from civilization. Golden wheat was swaying in the wind as he made the turn and steered the car from the main road onto the dusty dirt road.

The sun was rising, bringing more light onto earth and Sam could faintly make out a line of trees at the end of the road. The road was bumpy and it took him quite the time to get the car moving. Stones and ditches made it hard to drive fast, so all Sam could do was slowly creep his way forward, hoping the car's axle wouldn't break when he drove over an especially high bump that scratched the underside of the stolen car.

When he finally reached the end, he was right up to the trees. Left and right from the road erupted a forest, going alongside the fields and building a steady line to each side. Sam stopped the car in front of the forest, taking a second look before he decided to continue driving. The road he was on was disappearing into the forest.

The road got narrower the further he got. The trees on each side came closer, their branches starting to get entangled high above him, keeping every kind of light outside with their leaves. It was still a dirt road but outside of the woods, is was only stones and holes. Within the forest, branches and leaves were added. Especially the leaves were hiding the holes and Sam drove into them faster than he would have. It was still more sneaking than driving and at some point branches started to scratch his windows.

He still continued to fight his way through, driving as slowly as he could, concentrating on the road to avoid any kind of hazard. Yet a few minutes later he mistook a pile of leaves for a bump and before he knew it, the car was hanging sideways in a especially large ditch, followed by the aching sound of bending metal and a sharp snap and Sam knew that this is where he needed to stop the car and get out.

From the outside, it just looked like the car was stuck in the hole with its front tire but the sound had indicated that there was more wrong than just that. But he wasn't a mechanic, so all he could do was to leave it behind. He grabbed his backpack from the backseat before he continued on foot.

The sun must have fully risen by now. It was way past 7am, yet the trees above were woven so tight that light was only shining through the leaves but not directly into the forrest. Only now and then a ray could sneak through and Sam always liked how one could see all the small particles dancing in that streak. He liked that about the forrest back in California, when he and Jess were driving out if Palo Alto, over the Golden Gate Bridge and up Highway Number 1 along the coast to go hiking out by Muir Woods.

Jess always liked this kind of scenery, light falling through the trees, dust dancing in the rays and she would then call it magical. She used metaphors like this all the time. Something as magical, out of this world, unbelievable, or simply mysterious. Sam had always cringed next to her, even though he didn't know half of it but knowing that something is out there, was enough for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

He figured that some stuff wouldn't be so magical anymore once you found out that it tries to kill you.

Sam sighed and kept walking, looking back to notice that he already couldn't see his car anymore. Well, the car he stole. The more he thought about, the more he realized what he had done and what the consequences could possibly be. And then he decided that it was probably better if he didn't think about it.

 

Another hour had passed and slowly Sam started to doubt that this was just a "small" tree line. It must be at least two or three miles in width. And there was still no light in sight or anything that even indicated that there would be an end soon. The road got even smaller and bumpier, it was already a pain to walk by foot, so Sam imagined that actual driving would be a bitch.

Yet he could spot tire marks in the dirt, probably belonging to some kind of Jeep though. As Sam went on, he felt how the air got chillier and he pulled his sweatshirt tighter around him. Due to the fact that there was no sun coming through, it was only shadows, fog and dampness that kept him company.

He had no real hiking gear with him, so he needed to rely on the stuff he did have and that consisted of an almost empty bottle of water, which was still in the car from a stop at a gas station during his drive here yesterday and the granola bar he was now eating.

 

He passed the first marker as soon as he had finished eating. He stopped, surprised that he had actually noticed it. Or at least had noticed one. He had no idea if it really was the first or if he had passed a few already and this one was just the one he had seen. After that he found out what Anne had meant with markers pretty fast.

They were old squared stones, which had some engraving in them, scattered all over the place. They were mostly covered in moss, so Sam couldn't see what exactly was standing on them, but they appeared on the side of the road and he also spotted a few deeper inside the wood.

They must mark the border to the property and Sam noticed how the the road started to get wider again, the earth started to get harder, the ditches smaller and the stones lesser. There were still tire tracks prominently in the dirt and Sam kept following them, thinking that he was actually lucky that there was a road like this, otherwise he would probably get lost at some point.

He shook his head and pulled the strap of his backpack tighter as he continued determined with his march. Sam kept walking until he suddenly spotted something in the middle of the road. He first thought it was something like a tree that had fallen across the road but the closer he got, the better he could see.

It was a gate. Iron bars blocking his way and he was actually speechless for a moment because that was the last thing he had expected. Yet he found himself in front of an old, rotten gate.

The gate almost melted into the forest, the iron gate bars were covered in moss and plants and the once shiny metal was now grayish-brown from rust and rain and wind. Sam stopped before he walked over and placed his hands on two of the bars, shaking the gate to see if it was closed or not. The iron almost made an exhausted sound when he tried to push it open. It was stuck on the ground, too much sunken in the earth and covered in plants that made it impossible for Sam to get it open.

There were two square stone pillars on each side, which held the iron gate. One pillar was broken and the other one almost disappeared into ivy but they still stood strong and held the two iron doors. The gate itself was beautifully made, between the single bars were flower ranks made of iron, going from the bottom to the top, where they ended in small arrows. The gate was a little deformed and didn't close completely anymore but Sam could see that the design was going over from one side to the other almost flawlessly. The top ended in swirls and curves and in the middle of each door was a huge metal plate shaped in an ellipse and when Sam reached out to touch it he could feel that there was something on it like an emblem or logo. He tried to scrape the moss off one of the plates but it was impossible to make out what was supposed to stand there.

He once more tried to get the gates open but they were unmovable as if they were supposed to stay together. A few steps to the side, Sam suddenly realized that this wasn't just a gate in the middle of the forest.

This was a whole fence.

There was waist high flat stone block as base for the gate. It was smooth and Sam noticed that it was even sunken in the ground. Iron bars came out of the stone and went about one more foot over Sam's head. They were full of ivy and moss and other plants and bushes, so spotting that there was an actual gate running through the forrest from either side of the gate was actually really hard if you didn't know it was there.

Sam knew that he shouldn't, that there were probably no clearer signs that this was private property but he had spent hours to get here and he'll be damned if he would go back now. He waited though, looking up and down the fence, impressed how someone could have build something like this in the middle of a freaking forrest. Especially as he could not see where the end was, which meant that this was literally surrounding something all the way. This fence must be miles long.

But then he took off his backpack and reached into one of its front pockets, where he had kept the amulet and the moment his fingers brushed it, he knew that this was the right way. He pulled it out by its leather string before he closed his hand around it tightly. It hummed and grew warm in the middle of his hand, so he held it even tighter, knowing that he was right here.

He put it in his front pocket before he grabbed his bag and threw it over the fence in one aimed throw.

It wasn't hard to get over the fence. The stone socket helped Sam to heave himself over the bars and land smoothly on the other side.

Sam paused then for a moment, not daring to move. Yet he didn't really know what he was waiting for but he listened to the silence of the forrest for a while before he dared to move again and pick up bis bag. It suddenly got even chillier on the other side of the fence and Sam once again pulled his sweatshirt tighter.

The road continued on the other side of the gate normally, still going straight through the forrest, trees growing left and right of it. Therefore he just continued to follow it but not without glancing one more time back at the gate, which appeared so suddenly out of nowhere. It was just melting into the forrest, rotting and rusting and Sam's glance wandered along the fence. It was just standing there, broken and old. It was intact, it was still keeping something protected. And slowly Sam realized that what- or whoever was inside of this fence, it was still protecting this property. This gate was locked, it was closed and there was a freaking fence running alongside the border of this ground.

The more Sam thought about it, the more he realized what a mistake this might have been. Whatever was locked away in here - he just had trapped himself in here with it.

He doubted his decision for a moment, and he turned around, almost deciding that this was stupid. That this whole idea was stupid, that he should go back and get home.

Yet he was unable to make a step towards the gate again.

It was running against a brick wall made out of air and invisible bricks. He couldn't go back. He could go sideways and he could continue forward, away from the gate but once he made two steps and turned around he was unable to make them back.

So he literally was trapped.

And this was also the point where he realized, that this was a mistake.

But in the exact same moment, the amulet in his pocket started to hum and grew hot against his leg. It was as if it tried to remind Sam why he was here in the first place, which honestly - Sam had no idea why. He had found this necklace in a random car (okay, not random, it was his car) but still. No one had heard of Dean Winchester in years, he could be dead for all he knew. He had saved the Men of Letters almost 50 years ago and back then the stories varied but Sam always thought that he was at least thirty already. Sure, other stories suggested that he was barely in his twenties but either way, Winchester was probably as old as Sam's grandfather.

Right?

And Sam didn't even know if that amulet he found in the Impala was his. Maybe someone else put it there. Maybe it was cursed or useless? Maybe this was a trap after all?

Well, but then it looked like he didn't have a choice.

He couldn't go back, so the only way to go was forward. And there he had to face whatever was waiting for him, probably killing him. Or at best laughing at him for his stupidity. Oh god, please let it be some random, paranoid, old guy.

Sam continued walking, even though his enthusiasm had like dropped by a third. The amulet in his pocket started to get hotter by the minute and he eventually had to pull it out and wrap it loosely around his wrist to avoid getting burned.

At least the necklace seemed to be excited.

After a while, Sam could see the sun. There was light and the trees got lighter, indicating that there was an end in sight. Or at least a clearing of some sort. He almost ran towards it as it got clearer and he could see green grass between the trees. The road led him out of the forrest and soon was he standing at the edge of it, the tree line steady behind him. The dirt road he was on, parted with the end of the forrest. You could turn left or right on another road, which was running directly alongside the trees, disappearing behind some turns.

Sam had to blink against the bright afternoon sun and the sudden hotness against his body. It took him a while get his sweatshirt of and wrap it around his waist before he could take a second look at the scenery on front of him.

It wasn't just a clearing.

It was gigantic. And that meant that you can talk about miles and acres. The forrest built a neat line surrounding everything but even Sam couldn't see how far it was going. But there were fields upon fields in front of him and nothing else. Grass and wheat and what looks like unplanted fields. Occasional trees where standing of green patches of grass in between, creating small islands of shadows in the whole scene.

Wind blew into Sam's face, bringing the smell of wild flowers and fresh grass to him and for a moment he thought this was too good to be true. This was a whole farming side, enclosed in a line of trees, enclosed with a fence (if it was true and it was running around this whole property). But this was nothing that Sam had ever seen before. He's been to farms, hell, he grew up in Kansas for god's sake but none of them looked like this.

The road he was currently standing on, disappeared behind him into the forrest again and you could go either way along the tree line but you could also continue straight forwards. Yet it wasn't going straight like in the forrest, it was winding it's way through the fields, towards a dark spot Sam could now make out somewhere at the horizon. Waist-high grasses blocked the way for a clear sight and range was just too big to see everything in detail. But Sam guessed that the spot was a shape of a house, so this road would probably take him to it.

He tried the whole going back once again, and to his surprise he could, but only a few steps until he hit the tree line. He could move around freely but he wasn't allowed to enter the forrest again.

"Great." He mumbled under his breath as he turned around and blinked against the sun. Sweat was pooling on his forehead already and he could have sworn that Anne had mentioned something about a thunder storm yesterday. But the current weather obviously suggested something else.

He fixed his eyes on the dark spot and sighed. Well, it wasn't like he had another choice.

 

He was right about the road. It was winding its way along the fields, like it was build to fit against them instead of through them. Patches of grass grew on its side before it went over into a field. Some of them carried wheat or something that probably grew into corn later on. Others were empty and just constituted of brown dirt and others were high grass and wild flowers in between. Sam passed the occasional oak or cherry tree, which stood proud in a middle of a field or in between two or just on the side of the road. The grass around them was short but didn't look cut and Sam found himself once or twice tempted to lay in the shadow of one and to just sleep.

But the sun continued to burn down on him and a glance on his watch reminded him that it took him nearly five hours to get to this point from where he had left the Bed & Breakfast. That also reminded him that he had no food and no water left. Which reminded him that he was fucking starving.

And exhausted.

Then he started to forget why he was even here in the first place.

But he continued walking, ignoring the ache that started to settle in his legs and his dry mouth. At some point he had to stop to look around again. The trees were starting to blur in the distance, no matter to which side he was looking (because he was right - the trees were surrounding this area completely) but when he turned towards the dark spot, then he was able to make the house out a little bit better but not like he was about to reach it anytime soon.

When Sam first spotted the creek he thought he had imagined it. He had to stop, to lean down and let his fingers glide through the cold until he actually believed it. The creek was small, maybe three feet wide and there was a small stone bridge going over it. Otherwise it was almost invisible between grass and stones as it was twisting its way between the fields. It was so unreal though that he had to stay for a few moments to just stare at it in fascination.

He passed the first barn about an hour later. The house came closer and the sun was burning hotter. He had spotted them already, a few of them randomly scattered in between the fields almost like the tree islands. There were small barns, nothing special about them, probably for storage, so all Sam did was stare while he passed it before he focused back on the main house again.

It came closer and the closer it came, the hotter the amulet got around his wrist. He needed to be careful as it had streaked his hand accidentally and left a burning, red mark where it touched and torched the skin. He thought about throwing it away, or putting it in his backpack but something told him to keep it visible. So instead of just fighting the hell-like heat and focusing of keeping his legs moving, he now had to focus to keep his hand still enough, so the amulet wouldn't bounce unexpectedly up and down.

Sam was tired and exhausted and it was way past noon, which also meant that there was no way that he would make it back to the car or the hotel or even to the beginning of the forest again. The house was close now, maybe one mile left but Sam was so slow already that he was sure that he would need at least another hour for this last mile.

And then he would probably get shot by some crazy, old man.

Which sounded so welcoming at this moment.

 

Sam didn't reach the house. He wasn't sure what exactly happened but the next moment he was lying face down on the road, breathing in dirt and dust, which made his lungs hurt even more. His hand had somehow enclosed the amulet, which was burning like hell and probably burning away the skin of his palm but he couldn't let go and blinding pain streaked through his body before he lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter 2

 

  

"What the hell do you think you are doing here, kid?" The deep voice growled and all Sam could do was groan. His head hurt - in fact everything hurt and he literally had no clue what was happening. He blinked and expected brightness but the light was pleasant for his eyes. Not bright like he had expected, still a little too much but not as if it was hurting him. He had to blink a few times before he could adjust himself to it.

He was laying on the ground, on grass he thought, and there were leaves above him, blue sky and quite a lot of clouds. So it was going to storm after all, was one of his first thoughts. The sun was behind the wall of clouds, there was a pleasant wind that kept the heat away and made everything quite enjoyable.

All he could think of was heat and burning but the cold wind felt nice on his face and in his hair and he closed his eyes to enjoy it for a moment.

"Kid!" The voice growled at him again and Sam opened his eyes and sat up - too quickly as his head started to spin but he caught himself, after a while he turned his head and stared in the face of a man, who looked anything but friendly.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man hissed again, voice hoarse and deep, and only now did Sam realize that he was laying under one of trees next to the road, on one of the small grass patches and that the stranger was kneeling next to him. His hand hurt and as he was glancing down, he noticed how it was wrapped in gauze.

"What happened?" Sam asked dumbly instead.

"Nearly burned your fuckin' hand off, boy." He man sounded offended, even though Sam had no idea why. "Almost wrecked it for good."

Sam just stared, his vision now finally starting to clear and his brain starting to work again. The man across from him was probably in his early thirties, or older, yet he looked quite young. Beautiful even. Blond hair, which was sun-bleached and freckles that decorated his face. He was tanned and stunning green eyes stared back at Sam.

"Kid, you okay?" He asked and fumbled with what seemed to be a first aid kit. Sam looked down, staring at the strong hands, which skillfully put everything back in the place as if he did this daily. The sleeves of his button-up were rolled up, revealing that there were freckles on his arms as well, and scars. A lot of scars. Furthermore, his right arm was covered in several tattoos, writing and weird symbols with the occasional pentagram in between. But before he could take in more details, a thought crossed his mind.

"Where's the necklace?" Sam asked then, lifting his right hand to stare at the bandage. The stranger looked up, before nodding towards the grass. Sam followed his gesture and saw the amulet laying there. He automatically reached out and jerked back as his fingers hit the cold metal. He frowned and picked it up by the leather string, letting it dangle in front of his face.

"Weird." He mumbled and then placed the amulet in the open palm of his good hand. The metal was cool against his skin.

"Great." The stranger rolled his eyes and tried to get up, panting as he cramped a hand around his knee and groaned once he was able to straighten himself up. He looked down at Sam from above with calculating eyes before he shook his eyes and stomped away. Sam noticed the limp in his step.

"Wait… what…," Sam got up, hissing as he used his burned hand. He stuffed the now cold amulet in his pocket and grabbed his backpack, which had been laying there next to him as well. He followed the man, who started to walk up the road towards the house again.

While Sam was trying to catch up, he looked back, trying to figure out where he was. It slowly came back to him, the exhaustion and the burning sensation of the amulet and him finally fainting in the middle of walking.

"Who are you?" Sam shouted after the man, who was fast, even though he was supposed to be limping. The stranger scoffed and stopped, turning around.

"Funny you ask that, considering that this is my land and you shouldn't be here."

Sam swallowed. "I'm sorry… I just… I'm looking for someone."

The man frowned. "You should go." He was about to turn around and continue walking.

"No, wait!" Sam leaped forwards but stopped as he came face to face with a gun.

"Look, kid." The stranger said. "You shouldn't be here, so I suppose you turn around and leave or this ain't gonna end pretty." He stared at Sam, hand steady while the barrel of his gun was aiming straight at Sam's temple.

"Are you Dean Winchester?"

"Go home." The man stared at Sam with empty eyes before he took the gun down and put it behind his back into his pants. "Now!"

"But you do know who I'm talking about, don't you?" Sam stepped closer, which was probably the dumbest idea ever. "I saw it in your face, you know who I'm talking about."

"I said go home." The man's face grew dark, eyebrows furrowed. Sam took another step closer.

"Don't make me shoot you, boy."

"You are a hunter, too." Sam said. "I saw the symbols on the markers in the forrest. They are for protection." Well, that one was rather guessed than known but whatever. Sam knew that the man in front of him knew something.

"And what would you possible want from Dean Winchester?" The man crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"I think I found his car."

He didn't even blink. "His car?" He scoffed.

"The Impala? '67 Chevy."

He stared at Sam for a few seconds before he shook his head. “Just leave it, dude. Trust me when I say that you don't want to meet Dean Winchester?" Sam noticed that his hands were visibly shaking.

"Is that so?" He asked.

The man huffed. "Son of a bitch is nuts. Devil himself if you like."

"So you do know him?" Sam's face brightened up.

"Oh, you have no idea." The man shook his head before he eyed Sam up and down one more time. "You should go now. The spell that made it impossible to walk back is gone for the moment, you should make it back fine."

"I… ah… I can't." Sam hastily said. "Well, first of my car broke, well, it's not really mine but well, it's somewhere in a ditch and I think the axle broke, anyway… it took me hours to get here, dude. Like no offense but I'm not gonna walk that whole way back." The guy turned around to witness Sam's bitch face for a second before it was gone.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you climbed over my fucking fence and snuck around on my property. You expect me to give you a ride back or something?"

"Oh I'm not planning on going back." Sam squared his shoulders and stared straight at the man's face with determination. "I'm here to find Dean Winchester."

"And what makes you think that he is here?"

"This." Sam reached in his pocket and tore the amulet out. It dangled from the leather string as he was holding it in the air. "It showed me the way."

"It showed you the way?" The man was slightly confused, yet his eyes refused to take a longer look at the necklace, they just darted by before he looked back at Sam. "How? Where the hell did you even find it?"

"Well, I found it in the Impala." Sam said and the guy across from him clenched his teeth. "And it gives me visions."

"Visions?"

"Yeah." Sam shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. If this guy really was a hunter, then maybe he needed to be more careful. But then, it was all or nothing. He couldn't just walk back, clearly nothing had happened on his way here. So he needed to get closer to the house at least. "It showed me the town sign of Jericho. And then the name Hunter's Manor. And the girl at my hotel pointed me to this property. So whatever this thing wants to show me, the next hint is somewhere here."

"You should go." The man sighed. "And stop telling people you get visions from an amulet. You might end up locked up somewhere. And trust me when I say that ain't fun."

"No, I need to…," Sam started but didn't come far as he was suddenly gasping for air. He panted and coughed.

The man had stepped forwards and grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt roughly, pulling Sam closer to his face. "Now listen to me, you stubborn bastard. You gonna march your ass back out of here and you gonna go home and stop asking stupid questions that can cost you your life, do you understand me?"

The smell of leather and oil went into Sam's nose. And there was a faint smell of ash and smoke underlying it.

He couldn't move and something told him that he also shouldn't, so all he could do was stare stubbornly into those green eyes. Breathing got hard and neither of them said anything until Sam's eyes went down and he used his last strength to gasp.

"It's the mark." Sam coughed and the man's eyes grew darker for a second. Sam stared down at the right arm of the man. The rolled up sleeve almost hid it but not well enough and between the black ink he could clearly make out the red mark etched into the hunter's skin. It had taken him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't just another tattoo and then his brain had taken over and he knew exactly what the f-shaped mark stood for.

"It's the Mark of Cain." Sam suddenly had air again as the hunter let go of him and stepped back, using his left hand to cover his right arm. He had suddenly a panicked look but it was gone before Sam could make sure that it actually had been there.

"That's the Mark of Cain." He repeated, eyes still staring at the man's arm, even though he couldn't see the mark anymore. "Just how… like wow-"

Sam didn't really know what to say. He had read about it, actually he accidentally had found it during research for his mythology class (it was one of the classes he took voluntarily). Of course he knew it from the bible but during his research he had found different stories, different legends and after he read into it a little, he wondered if the Men of Letters would know something about it. Something other people didn't.

It wasn't a big secret though that it was rumored that the current bearer of the mark was nobody else but Dean Winchester himself.

That's what made Sam interested in it in the first place.

And that meant…

"You are him." Sam gasped and actually had to step back. "You are Dean Winchester."

The man across from him was silent.

"So the legends were real…," Sam said more to himself than to the hunter. He couldn't believe it. He took a second look and tried to do the math. So many things that just didn't add up. "But how is it possible? I mean, how can you look… what are you?"

The hunter - apparently Dean fucking Winchester - cringed. But he still didn't answer Sam.

"My grandfather met you like 50 years ago, man. And you still look like this. Is it the Mark?" Sam stepped closer (not too close, you never know) but he wasn't dead yet, so he figured that he could risk it. "I mean according to the legends, you…,"

"I what?" Winchester spoke up. "I'm not human anymore? That I'm just a merciless killer that doesn't give a fuck about what or who he's killing? That I'm a monster?" He stepped closer, eyes determined on Sam. "Guess what, kid?" He crooked his head.

"Those stories are all true."

Sam had the urge to step back and run, yet he stayed where he was. "Actually I was going to say that it must keep you alive, I mean otherwise you wouldn't look like that."

Winchester raised an eyebrow. "Listen, you found me, great. Now go back and leave me the fuck alone." He turned around and started walking back towards the house.

"Why did you leave it?" Sam shouted after him.

"Huh?" The hunter stopped and turned around. "Why did I leave what?"

"The Impala." Sam said. "Why did you leave it behind."

"It's just a car, I had no use for it anymore." Dean shrugged, expression calm and cold.

"My grandfather told me that you gave it to him, so he could drive back home to his son. You said that he should keep it and give it to his son one day." Sam stepped closer. "Doesn't sound useless to me."

"Go home, Sam."

Sam stopped ice-cold, expression frozen at those words. "How do you know my name?"

Dean Winchester came closer, pain washed across his face as he reached out for Sam. "You shouldn't have come here, you stubborn idiot. Why do you always have to question it?" He was standing in front of Sam now, yet he didn't quite reach the same height, something Sam thought he needed to be amused by, but Sam couldn't move.

And the next moment he fainted into darkness again.

 

* * *

 

The sound of thunder woke Sam up. It took him a while to really realize what was happening around him and that's when he felt how much his body hurt. Like he got run over by a truck. He pushed his face deeper into the pillow and groaned, rolling to and fro to find a better sleeping position but thunder outside crashed down, sending him upright into a sitting position and that's when he tore his eyes open.

He was in his room at the B&B and his glance wandered towards the ancient clock on the nightstand next to his bed. It was around 10p.m. and a second glance towards the windows confirmed that. It was raining outside, storming rather and loud thunder crashed down every now and then, following lightening that lit up the world for a few seconds.

"Damn it." He cursed to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. He'd had the weirdest dream, he felt that, yet he couldn't remember a bit of it. He got up and walked over to the bathroom. His throat was sore and he needed some water. He felt like he had slept for hours.

The water was fresh and cold and Sam couldn't get enough of it. He was thirsty without knowing why, like he had starved for days. He gulped down the water before he wiped his mouth and stared at himself in the mirror. This whole thing was still a bad idea but he was sure that he could find Dean Winchester. The amulet had shown him the next place he needed to go, and tomorrow he would go to find Hunter's Manor.

Sam turned off the water and turned around to walk back into the room. He closed the bathroom door behind him and leaned against it with closed eyes. He had this nagging feeling that he just couldn't shake off. He let his head fall against the wood with a heavy thud before he breathed in again. And that's when he felt it.

The next moment his head got slammed against the door, a hand enclosing tightly around his neck as he felt the breath against his cheek.

 _"Winchester_...," His name got hissed like it was a curse but Sam couldn't move. He was pulled forwards suddenly by the collar of his shirt and thrown across the room, his body collided hard with the dresser on the other side. Sam groaned and held his hurting right side.

There was a woman standing in the middle of his room. She looked like a random hiker, wearing boots and jeans and a button up, her blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She was standing over Sam and pulled him into a standing position again roughly.

"Where is he?" She hissed at him while she shoved him back violently. Sam stumbled over his own feet. "Where the fuck is he?"

Sam's air was cut off. She had her hand around his neck again and he coughed, unable to even answer her. He stared up at her face, not knowing what he was supposed to do.

"You reek of him, so you must have found him. I've been looking for months and then another Winchester is crossing my path, this cannot be a coincidence! So tell me where the hell is Dean Winchester?!" She didn't scream but was close to while she choked Sam more and then her eyes turned black.

That's when she let go of him and tumbled backwards, mouth torn open and hands going up to her skull while her eyes were wide open, scared and hopeless. She whimpered, "Please, please…. I'm sorry, so sorry, please!"

And that's when Sam spotted the shadow behind her. He was fast and soundless and when he stabbed her from behind she had no time to react.

She let out a soundless scream before she lunged forwards, trying to grab Sam but got yanked back by the shadow once more. She flew across the room, her body colliding with the wall. She groaned as she was laying on the floor, blood dripping from the wound on her side. She tried to crawl away but an invisible force made her fly forwards again, she cried out before she fell to the ground in front of the shadow, coughing up blood.

There was a man standing in front of her, legs apart while he stepped in front of Sam, who was sitting on the ground. His head hurt, so did the right side of his body but he stared up to the man, whose back was covered in a leather jacket.

The odd feeling that this was familiar came to Sam's mind and the next moment he realized that this was one of his visions. The first one, which had started it all. It was happening right now.

A gun shot echoed in Sam's ears and if he wouldn't have been so surprised he would have screamed. He stared at the smoking gun in the stranger's hand before he looked over to the woman. There was a bullet wound in her right temple, the skin around the entry wound was burned and black, blood was running out of it. Sam thought he was going to be sick.

Her eyes flew open, once more they were pitch black. "You don't want to do this, sweetheart." Her voice sounded different than before and her words were directed at the man in front of her. There was a sound coming from him and it took Sam a moment to realize that he was laughing.

"Oh _sweetheart_." The man went down in front of her, resting both arms on his knees, gun loosely held in one hand. "Sometimes I actually wish that all of you could remember." He leaned closer. " _Just_ for the fun of it".

He placed the barrel of his gun under her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Oh wait, I actually can make you remember."

The woman gasped before she screamed so loud that Sam had to cover his ears. She cried out and tried to get away from the man as fast as possible but something made her unable to move and so all she could do was sit there and whimper.

The man laughed deeply. "See, now this is what real fear should look like."

She made a choking sound. Black smoke was coming out of her mouth before it got sucked back inside of her. "You're Dean Winchester."

The man straightened up again and his movement caught Sam's eyes. If the woman was telling the truth then this would be it. His search was over.

"Make him stop, Sam." Her voice was hoarse and Sam's eyes went from the hunter's back towards the broken woman on the floor. The woman was coughing roughly, blood was running down her face as she looked over to Sam, eyes full of pain. "Please…," She whimpered. "Please help me."

"Please make him stop."

"Shut up!" The hunter growled and Sam jumped at the sound of his voice. "Don't you even dare to speak to him."

Sam stared at the man in front of him, asking himself if this was real. If he was real and if he really was the one he was looking for.

"Please, Sam."

"I said shut up!" The gun was fired once more and Sam jerked back like the first time. He panted as he saw the woman laying in pool of blood. A second bullet wound was right between her eyes. "Don't make me drag your fucking ass back into hell, you black-eyed bitch."

"Sammy, are you alright?"

Dean Winchester turned around and all Sam could do was stare. This was it. This was the moment he needed to warn the hunter about. But before he could say something, he did catch a movement and then the woman was already standing again, knife in her hand as she drove it into the hunter's back.

The man in front of him fell to his knees and Sam had the urge to go and grasp him tight. The urge to scream and fight as something tore at his heart. But in the end, all he did was stare.

The woman, who was laughing manically, looked over to Sam. "Now, I know all about you, Sam. The only thing that's missing is why." She stepped over Dean's lifeless body to get closer to Sam. "Why the hell is Dean Winchester protecting you?"

She went down in front of him, hand reaching out to grasp his face. "What's so special about you?"

Sam stared at the woman, who clearly wasn't human and tried to scramble away but he couldn't move. His eyes darted over to the hunter and she chuckled. "That's right, my dear…,"

"Dean Winchester himself." She grinned. "And now he's dead because of you."

Sam's eyes widened at her words. She just looked amused. "Ohh Sammy, what have you done?"

"Try that one again."

Sam gasped at the voice and the woman in front of him cursed but it was too late. She flew backwards, pinned against the wall, where she couldn't move anymore. Dean Winchester was slowly walking over, no sign that he was hurt in any way. "What's your damn problem?"

"You killed my father." The woman spat out and Winchester just laughed.

"Well, see your father once killed my mother." He hissed, his face now inches away from her. "And I just made him pay for it." He reached up to trace his finger down her cheek. "Over and over and over again."

"You killed Lilith." She continued. "And Lucifer."

Dean just smiled.

"We've been trying to hunt you down since then, you son of a bitch." She hissed. "I may have not succeeded this time but the day will come."

Dean sighed. "Ahh, sweetheart." He chuckled as he leaned closer, breath ghosting over her cheek. "See you in Hell."

There was certain light that seemed to come from inside her. But she gasped, her mouth wide open as the light pulsed through her. Then she was sliding down the wall, her body crumpled to the ground.

"They just don't get it, Sammy." The man was talking, still facing the wall. Sam stared up from where he was sitting. Breathing hurt his ribs and he had to take air in with small gasps. His body was shaking as his eyes burned into the hunter's back. Dean Winchester turned around, sad smile ghosting over his lips. "We were the ones, they always should have been afraid of."

 

Sam didn't know what to say. He was sitting on the floor, holding his hurting ribs while he tried not to faint. Air was low and his head started to hurt even more. He looked up through his lashes at the man standing above him. The hunter was putting away his gun and reaching for the knife on the floor, wiping the blood off with his shirt. Then he was staring at Sam with a grim face before his glance wandered to the window and he cursed.

"Get your stuff and go down to check out of here." The man said, voice stating that this wasn't a question of choice. "Wait for me outside by the car. No detours."

Sam just nodded and scrambled up. He went to the bathroom first to retrieve his stuff and when he came out a second later the body of the woman was gone. There was no trace of Dean Winchester either and for a moment Sam was sure that he had gone crazy. But there was still blood on the floor and even on the bed and as weird as it was, it calmed him down.

He put everything in his backpack, being ready in less than a minute before he threw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans and crammed his feet into his shoes. He was out of the door and down in the Lobby within seconds.

Anne was sitting behind the desk, typing away on the computer with a concentrated expression when Sam came to a halt in front of her, heart beating in his ears. She glanced up at Sam and gave him a warm smile. "Hey Sam, haven't seen you all day."

"Huh?" Sam forgot for a moment what he was supposed to do. "What do you mean? I just checked in a few hours ago."

"It's Sunday night." She frowned. "You've been here since yesterday."

Sam almost panted, leaning over the desk further than he was supposed to do. "What?"

Anne just chuckled. "Don't worry, I haven't charged you a second night yet. We called you for breakfast but you didn't answer, so we figured to just let you be."

Sam just stared at her but then he caught himself. "Yeah, I mean… I was more tired than I thought, papers and exams and stuff, had to just sleep it off for once." He forced himself to smile. "Anyway, I didn't want to stay this long, I'm sorry. Go ahead and charge a second night if you want but I really need to go now."

"Now?" She raised her eyebrows but didn't question it before she typed some stuff on her computer. "We will only charge half the price for today, don't worry." She printed out some pages and made Sam sign them before he could finally grab his stuff and leave. He thanked her quickly and said his goodbyes before he turned around and walked away without waiting to hear her response.

When he walked outside, rain was drenching him within seconds. The thunder storm was still going, he had completely forgotten about it and he blinked against the rain until he saw the shape of a truck standing in front of the building. The door opened behind him and he turned around to see Dean Winchester walk out into the rain as well.

"What did you do?" Sam shouted against the rain while he followed the man to the car. He tore the door open and climbed inside, body shaking from the cold, rain and the recent events. The hunter slid into the driver's seat before he started the car and cranked up the heat, sending a worrying glance in Sam's direction. "I made sure that she wouldn't ask stupid questions. Not what you think." He said as Sam threw him a certain look. "There was spell over the room, so no one heard the shots earlier. And now she thinks that you hurt yourself and that's why there is blood all over the room. Paid for the clean-up and made sure that in a few days it's just a foggy memory, too unclear for her to remember."

"What happened to the body?" Sam asked.

"Took care of it, don't worry." The hunter said and Sam bit his lip. He stared out of the window. "So it is true?" He asked carefully.

"What?"

"Are you Dean Winchester?" Sam asked again and turned his head. He hadn't had the chance yet to take a closer look at the hunter, everything was just too fast and crazy. He had spotted blond hair and green eyes but that's about it. And the darkness of the car didn't give much away either.

The man turned his head and Sam believed he saw a smile in the dark. "The one and only."

"Hmm." Sam said and turned his head. "I think I found your car." He spoke towards the window.

"You said that already." Dean answered and Sam's head whipped around. "What?"

"This morning when you came to find me, you already told me then." The hunter kept his face straight forwards, eyes on the dark road.

Sam shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh right, I made you forget." Dean sighed before he reached over and Sam could feel the faint brush of fingers against the back of his hand and that's when the pictures tumbled into his head.

"You…. you made me forget…," Sam asked slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead as more pictures shoved themselves in front of his eyes. He was driving in his car, then the breakdown, the woods, the gate, the long walk in the burning sun and finally the amulet that nearly burned his hand off, the stranger that helped him, their exchange and the fact that he had met Dean Winchester already this afternoon.

"Sorry, kiddo." The hunter said. He glanced over to Sam. "I made sure to heal your hand. I will take care of your ribs once we are at the house."

It made sense now, that he was missing a day when Anne had told him that he checked in yesterday but it was still all too confusing. "Who was that?" He asked instead. He guessed he should start with the woman that tried to kill him.

"She was a demon." Winchester answered him. "No one important, still a bitch to deal with. Literally."

Sam sighed and rubbed his face, hissing as the movement hurt his body. "Great. Now what does a demon want from me?"

"Do you really wanna know?" Winchester looked over.

"Yeah, I do actually." Sam growled. "I really wanna know."

The hunter smiled a private smile. "Of course you would." He mumbled under his breath. "You remember how I told you to get your ass back home his afternoon? Should have listened." He grumbled.

"They weren't here for me, right?" Sam asked. "They were after you."

"Apparently." Winchester sighed. "They can't cross that fence you saw in the woods. Magic and a stone socket full of salt and iron. It's not a big secret that I live there, I had them circle it a few times." He looked over to Sam. "When I brought you back to the Bed and Breakfast after you… uhm passed out… I decided to wait until you finally left town. You never know, right?" He faked a laugh. "You must have drawn their attention, otherwise they would have left you alone. Once I saw her in your room, I came after her." Winchester shrugged. "So much for making you go home."

"Actually, that's what I really would prefer now." Sam said. "You know, just get me a few towns over and I will just do that. Go home." He laughed nervously.

"Yeah see, I can't do that." Winchester said, chatting time was obviously over. He turned off the car and Sam stared outside into the darkness. It was only raining slightly, the thunderstorm had passed them and the lightning was on the horizon in the meantime. He couldn't make much out but he saw a shape that looked like it was a house. A big house but he could be mistaken.

"Go." The hunter hissed coldly but Sam just stared after him, not knowing what he should do. He just saw how this man had killed demon without even touching her. The details came to Sam only now and he gasped at the memory how much that room had smelled like blood and smoke.

When Sam got out of the truck, he was pale and shivering.

"Sam!"

The voice was booming in the darkness and Sam couldn't see where it came from. It definitely belonged to Dean Winchester, right? Sam couldn't remember. He started to shake harder, cold sweat pooled in his neck. He panted as his vision blurred in front of his eyes. This wasn't real.

He was still dreaming or some shit. This couldn't be real.

Before he knew what he was doing, he started to run. It was probably the stupidest thing he had done all day but something suddenly felt off and he couldn't follow the hunter inside the house.

It was pitch black outside and Sam had no idea where he was going. His breath came out ragged yet he knew he couldn't stop running. His lungs started to hurt but he kept breathing, trying to will the pain away with his mind, trying to concentrate on his technique when he finally reached a tree line and disappeared inside the darkness of the trees. He panted while he tried to find his way through the underwoods.

Sam raced through the woods, dodged trees and stumps and bushes as well as he could in the dark. He only heard his own breathing, no clue if Winchester had followed him or if there might be something else following him. But it took him a few seconds before he had reached the trees, enough time for the other man to pull out his gun to shoot at him yet Sam hadn't heard any gunshots when he took of.

He had no clue where he was but he believed that if he kept to the left he might hit the road at some point again. Or at least some road. They must have driven on one when they came here.

Then he heard the growling.

It was right behind him and Sam even believed he could feel warm breath hitting his neck at some point. Yet he couldn't hear anything hitting the ground or breaking through branches. And suddenly it was next to him and Sam leapt forwards, stumbling over a stone or a root and he hit the cold forest floor hard. Something bore itself into his shoulder, his head hit something and his leg twisted in an unnatural angle. His palms burned where he tried to catch himself, small stones and dirt had obviously broken the skin there.

The growling continued and it was close, so close, yet Sam couldn't see anything. No shadow, no movement, nothing that could indicate that he was about to be attacked.

"CERBERUS!" The voice boomed through the forest and Sam flinched at the rough timbre that was definitely Dean Winchester. He tried to lift himself up but warm breath hit him in the face and he gagged, the smell of foulness and decomposition hitting him straight. Something was standing over him but he just couldn't see. It was like there was nothing there at all.

"Cerberus!" The hunter came closer, Sam saw a light shining through the trees. His head hurt more and the scent of fresh blood suddenly surrounded him. He blinked and squinted his eyes when the light of the flashlight hit his face. He couldn't see Winchester's face anymore but he felt warm hands on his cheek and the last thing that went through Sam's head before he dozed off - was how ironical it was that Dean Winchester named his dog after the three-headed beast that is supposed to guard the gates of Hell.

 

* * *

 

Sam woke up with a killing headache. He groaned and tried to sit up but strong hands pressed him back into the pillow. "Easy there, kiddo." The voice was soothing, warm and deep and Sam had no clue who was talking to him. "Don't want you to throw up on my carpet." Something cold hit his lips and Sam opened his mouth to swallow some of the liquid, which ran down his throat and soothed the soreness there. The position he was in made him cough though and the glass was pulled from his lips, a hand settled on his cheek instead.

"Pulled quite the stunt back there, huh?" A chair creaked and someone walked away from Sam, the hand had left his cheek as well, which made him instantly miss the heat that radiated off of it.

Heat. Heat. The amulet. Dean Winchester. The demon. The dog.

Sam tore his eyes open in shock and tried to sit up again but the light and the movement made his head spin and he got sick. Hands were on his shoulder again, pressing him back into the mattress, soothing over his sweating skin. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his nose, trying to keep the nauseous feeling under control.

It took him a minute or two but soon he could breathe normally again and now concentrate on opening his eyes slowly to adjust himself to the brightness of the room. The ceiling lamp was shining directly on his face, so he tried to turn his head to the side to blink away the spots in front of his eyes. The events came back to him now and Sam had to swallow hard. He went out looking in the woods for the hunter and had finally met the man, then he woke up in his room and got attacked by some crazy woman until Winchester had saved him.

It was more a blur for Sam than it was clear and he felt the headache building up again, so he tried to focus on the important things now. Where he was for example. His eyes adjusted to the lights and he could see clearly now, without having to squint his eyes together in pain. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't laying on a bed but a couch and the second thing was that there were books, thousands of books surrounding him. Built-in bookshelves surrounded the whole room and each of them were completely full. There was no free space left and even when the rows were full then there were books jammed above other books and there were books on piles in front of the shelves on the ground and for a moment Sam could actually believe in Heaven.

For a second he thought he was back at the bunker. But then Dean Winchester walked back into the room.

He was holding another glass, the amber liquid indicated that it wasn't water. He walked over to put it on the wooden coffee table, which was standing in front of the couch Sam was laying on. Once his focus was put on the table, Sam noticed a second glass with clear liquid standing there and a first aid kit.

He tried to speak but his throat was sore and hurt, probably from the running. Winchester sighed and fell on a chair he had pulled towards the couch, which he obviously had sat on while Sam was still out. He could feel the bandage on his forehead now and the hunter must have put it on him while he was out. He tried to speak again but failed.

"You were out about twenty minutes. Had to carry your sorry ass back here." Winchester reached for his whiskey and stared Sam down with an unreadable expression. "You were lucky though. Nothing is broken or twisted but I think your leg might hurt for a few hours. I could clean the cut on your face, it's just a scrape really and your palms were skinned slightly, but there was mostly just dirt. I guess they still gonna burn like a bitch. Your pupils are normal, no concussion either, but you still need to take it slow for the next hour or so." Dean shrugged and took another sip from his glass. "Took care of your ribs as well."

Sam groaned again and closed his eyes. He could have sworn that his fall would have left heavier injuries than just a few scrapes. He could have sworn that he had felt his leg twist and snap and he had smelled blood and his head was hurting but it was more the kind of hurt you know would fade away soon. But then he remembered how Winchester had said in the car that he had healed his hand, so maybe this was his way of telling him that there was worse but he had healed it already and now all Sam was left with was the aftershock. He fell back into the pillow and breathed in slowly before he opened his eyes again and turned his head to look at Winchester. The older man was staring intensely at Sam, nursing his whiskey like it was water, fierce green eyes staring at him in a way that made the brunette squirm.

"I made soup." Winchester said suddenly and Sam just stared perplexed.

"I mean while you were out. Now it is probably cold but I can re-heat it if you want." It was like something had shifted and the hunter seemed suddenly uncomfortable sitting there next to Sam. He seemed uncomfortable with the fact that he had patched Sam up, like he wasn't supposed to be doing this, like he wasn't supposed to be so close to Sam.

He was standing suddenly and vanished into the kitchen, which Sam noticed now was just right there on the other side of the room. When he turned his head a little bit he could see an arch, which connected this room with the kitchen and behind it he could spot a table, which had two untouched bowls on it.

As if on cue, Sam already started to feel better, which was again weird, considering the pain he had just felt a few moments ago. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline that had made it seem worse than it actually was. He still stayed on the couch though before he looked around the room with a clearer eyesight and head now.

The whole room was surrounded by bookshelves, only where the couch was standing and a little further down the wall was a free space, mostly because there were windows. Otherwise books dominated the room, laying around the shelves and the ground and on small things like a stool or a side table. Some lamps were scattered around the room as well, but it seemed more like they could be carried around to wherever they were currently needed. A huge desk was in the middle of the room and Sam had to lift his head a little to get a closer look. The mahogany desk was sturdy and old and there were piles of papers scattered all over it. There was no other door out of here, so Sam assumed that the only connection to the rest of the house would be in the kitchen.

Sounds were coming from the kitchen and once again was Sam reminded that he hadn't eaten in a long time. He felt better already, the headache just a small humming in the back of his head, he couldn't even feel the cut on his face, not even when he lifted his hand and felt along the bandage Winchester had put there. His hands were red and swollen but the burn was bearable and even when Sam sat up the nauseous feeling was gone. His leg twinged a bit when he put it on the ground, it felt like it was asleep more than twisted.

He slowly reached for the glass with the clear liquid on the coffee table in front if him, hoping it was water and he sniffed at it just in case before he took one small sip and once it was confirmed as water, he downed the whole glass at once. He put the glass back and stood up slowly, walking towards the kitchen.

The hunter was standing in front of the stove, stirring what appeared to be the second try at his soup. There was another pot right beside, lid on top and Sam was wondering what else he was cooking. He coughed slightly to make his presence clear. Winchester slightly turned his head, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth once he saw that Sam was already standing again.

"You feel alright?"

"What happened to the dog?"

"What?" The hunter fully turned around to face Sam, who stepped closer to the table, so he could grab a chair in order to steady himself in case his headache would suddenly return again. "There was a dog after me." Sam gripped the backrest of the chair tighter, trying to remember what had happened out there in the woods but everything was blurry, just a haze of rush and pain and darkness. "At least that's what I thought."

"I don't have a dog." Winchester answered and somehow Sam believed him. He seemed satisfied when he saw Sam just standing there, forgetting what he was about to ask.

"Sit." Winchester turned around to fumble with the two pots while Sam kind of automatically pulled the chair back and sat down. He stared at the man's back, watching him move his arms and how is shoulder blades moved accordingly. In the chaos of the demon attack and him running away, he hadn't managed to take another closer look of the hunter.

But Dean Winchester was beautiful.

Short, dark blond hair and intense green eyes, that somehow were familiar to Sam but he couldn't quite put his fingers on it. He hadn't expected Dean Winchester to look like, well, this.

"How old are you?" Sam suddenly blurted out when the other man put the pot down in front of him before he pulled his own chair back to take a seat. "I mean, you were there to save the Men of Letters in '58, right? And that's what? Almost 50 years ago but you still look, I mean… how…," Sam continued to stutter while Winchester just stared back, then he reached out to grab Sam's bowl and filled it up with soup.

"Eat."

Sam stared at the bowl that was placed in front of him and he looked up again, question on the tip of his tongue when he realized he had forgotten what he was about to ask, or even what he was just thinking about. "You made tomato-rice-soup." Sam said instead. "My Mom makes it exactly the same." He continued after he had tasted it.

Dean Winchester was staring at him.

"What?" Sam asked while he literally inhaled the soup, his stomach grumbling from hunger.

"Nothing." The hunter shook his head and grabbed the silver spoon to eat some of the soup as well. He glanced over to Sam, who was helping himself to a second serving already. Once Sam had almost finished that as well, Dean still hadn't touched his soup but kept staring at Sam with mixed feelings.

"What is she doing?" Dean finally asked.

"Who?" Sam licked his spoon clean and eyed the pot. Dean pushed the pot closer, signaling that Sam could take the rest.

"Your mother… you said your… uhm Dad… is a Man of Letters. What is your mother doing?"

Sam shrugged as he emptied the rest of the soup in his bowl. "She teaches at the local community college a few classes twice a week." He looked down as his bowl was empty again.

"Here, you can finish mine." Dean Winchester wouldn't meet his eyes as he pushed his untouched bowl of soup over to Sam before he got up, looking around until he could find the whiskey bottle. "I will prepare a room for you." He took the bottle with him and was about to disappear through a walkthrough next to a cabinet full of dishes and glasses when Sam looked up. "Wait."

He stopped and turned around.

"Does that mean, I really can't go home now?" Sam asked with a nagging feeling. "I mean, I wanted to find you to warn you about the woman, who was going to stab you to death. I didn't know that you would just walk away from it without a scratch." Sam laughed dryly.

"They know who you are by now. She probably told them before she went to attack you. That's what we need to find out. Because if she did, then you wouldn't even make it home. If she was stupid enough to just go after you without telling anyone than that would solve our problem. But until I'm sure that she didn't, I can't let you go just like that. If they know that I came to save your ass, then they will believe that I will probably do it a second time as well." Dean Winchester smiled. "Give me a day or two and I will know if she had time to tell anyone or not."

Sam frowned. "Why'd you do it?"

"What?"

"Save me." Sam looked over to the man standing across the room, whiskey bottle in his hand as pain washed over his face. He took a gulp directly from the bottle.

"That's the dumbest question you have asked yet." The hunter scoffed and took another sip before he shook his head and disappeared into what looked like a hallway.

 

When he walked back into the kitchen, Sam was standing by the sink, cleaning out the dishes and the pots. He turned his head slightly to smile at the hunter, where he was standing in the room. "Okay, so here's the deal, kid." Winchester stepped closer while Sam was just finishing up.

"Sam." He answered as he reached for a dish towel to dry his hands. He turned around to smile at the man brightly. "My name is Sam."

There was something in the back of Sam's mind when he said those words but he just couldn't remember. Everything was blurred. He even was unsure for a moment what he was doing here. "Yes, you can call me Sam." He repeated.

The man nodded. "Okay, Sam. You can have a room upstairs for the next few days or until I'm sure that the coast is clear for ya, alright?"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Okay, come on, kiddo." The man montioned for Sam to come closer and Sam did. He started to sway slightly though and ended up tumbling against Dean, who gripped him tight by the shoulders to keep him standing. "Sam…", Sam slurred suddenly as the heavy scent of gun oil hit him and brought feelings with it, which Sam couldn't even name. "My name is Sam…," He repeated and his eyes grew heavy. He slumped forward even more, forehead hitting Dean's shoulder and then Sam had no idea who he was or what the hell he was doing.

"I know, Sammy." Dean sighed and pressed the unconscious body of the boy closer to his chest. "I know."

 

* * *

 

_Sam felt the fingers on his cheek before he fully regained consciousness. It was like waking up from a dream, mind still half dreaming and the other half waking up, realizing what was happening around him._

_Then he pried his eyes open, as well as he could. His lashes were glued together with something dried, probably blood, and he had to blink once or twice to be able to open them completely. He still couldn't see though. The room was pitch black, no light in any way, no shadows able to form in the different corners of the room._

_His back hurt. And his hands. He tried to move but his wrists scraped against metal and it stung like hell. He was cuffed, his arms pulled up. He was hanging from the ceiling, only inches of his feet touching the ground. Everything hurt, the whole position, his whole body ached. The cuts and wounds were stinging and burning, breathing hurt from all the smoke in his lungs._

_It was only his too loud thoughts and the darkness. And the touch that had returned. Fingers feeling down his cheeks, carefully._

_He tried to speak but his voice was not available and moving in any way hurt too much._

_He first thought it was a dream but it felt so real. Because those fingers were definitely Dean's. Which should have given him the confirmation that it couldn't be real. Dean wasn't here, Dean couldn't be here._

_Was he even awake?_

_But the pain felt real. It felt fucking real and it hurt._

_Sam closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the touch of the fingers. They were only slightly chapped, from digging around in random graves, from handling the shovel that was needed to get to the corpse. They were rough from handling a gun, from cleaning and from fighting. But they always smelled like oil. Gun oil, car oil, didn't matter. And like on cue Sam smelled the greasy oil Dean always used._

_It was relaxing, made the pain go away and Sam was able to concentrate on the smell, the touch and suddenly the heat._

_Alright, it was definitely a dream._

_Sam was in a bed suddenly. Somehow the pain was still there, somewhere in the back of his head but he was no longer hanging from a ceiling, wasn't cuffed anymore. Instead he could feel the scratchy bed cover and felt the hard mattress of a cheap motel bed beneath him. It was a situation he found himself in since he could remember. He would wake up sometimes in the middle of the night and every time his Dad was gone and then it would take him a moment to realize that it was just another motel room._

_Sam wanted to stretch in the bed, enjoy the feeling of it, even he remembered that they were always uncomfortable. But he wasn't exactly in a situation to demand high standards. Really anything would do. He wasn't able to move though and panic started to rise. Maybe he never was chained to a room's ceiling. Maybe he was chained to a bed._

_He couldn't remember._

_His breathing started to get ragged. And he was young again - four years old or seven, eight, ten, twelve, age it didn't matter because he had woken up like this for what felt forever. He went to sleep alone in his bed and then he woke up in the middle of the night, in complete darkness and felt that he was unable to move, weighed down by something._

_And every time he started to panic, first thinking the monster under his bed had taken him, later thinking it was a real monster that had first killed his family and then had taken him. Sam always expected the worst first, even though it had happened so many times before._

_That was until he had felt the touch and smelled the oil and was able to relax, knowing that it was just his older brother that was draped all over him._

_Sam never had to wake up from a nightmare and then wanted to crawl into Dean's or Dad's bed, so he could feel safe again. Simply because when he woke up from a nightmare, he found Dean already in bed with him. His brother, who normally was still awake when Sam went to sleep, somehow always ended up in Sam's bed during the night. The few times they had to share a bed due to space and money didn't really count. It was the times when Dean technically had his own bed and Sam had his own bed and in the end Sam would wake up just to find Dean sleeping next to him again._

_It wasn't until they slept apart that Sam had understood what was happening. He first thought that Dean had assumed that Sam was scared and thought he would spare Sam the embarrassment of asking if he could sleep in Dean's bed after a nightmare. He thought Dean just wanted to give him a hand, but it wasn't like Sam had a nightmare every freaking night. It was during the time when Sam had stayed with Pastor Jim for a weekend and then, when he finally was reunited with Dean and Dad again, was he able to see in his brother's eyes that he hadn't slept in those last days they were apart._

_So it wasn't Dean, who wanted to be there in case Sam would wake up and be scared in the middle of the night._

_Instead it was the 10-year-old Dean, who teased Sam every morning that he once again had to save his little brother from the ugly nightmare while Sam with his 6 years just pouted and claimed that he did not have a bad dream, making his Dad chuckle and ruffle Sam's wild, brown locks. It was the 12-year old Dean, who patted his shoulders and said it was alright that Sam was cold in the night and that Dean knew that the motel room sucked ass and was freezing like hell. It was 14-year old Dean, who shrugged and claimed there was not enough space in the backseat of the Impala. It was 16-year-old Dean, who had explained sheepishly to their Dad that Sammy was whimpering and restless in his sleep and it annoyed the hell out of him, so he wasn't able to sleep, so he went into his bed to make it stop. It was 17-year-old Dean, who argued that the motel had no other free rooms and that he and Sam had to share a bed this time._

_It was Dean, who wasn't able to sleep when he was apart from Sam._

_It was Dean, who had turned in his bed and was not able to fell asleep until he had gotten up and crawled into bed with Sammy. It was Dean, who was only able to sleep as soon as he had made sure Sam was safe and secure, warm and tucked in. First he just had to look over to see Sam laying in bed peacefully, listening to his brother's even breathing in order to finally get some sleep._

_Watching turned into walking over to check on Sam. Checking turned into touching, touching into staying a few minutes, a few minutes into an half hour laying next to Sam, a half hour into an hour slight cuddling, and finally Dean needed to feel Sam all over him, needed to feel his breath on his skin, feel Sam's chest heaving and his heart beating in order to sleep without trouble._

_And Sam would wake up occasionally to find Dean's fingers on his cheek, in his hair or clutched into his shirt, the smell of oil lulling him back to sleep, Dean's breath on his neck, Dean's body heat all over him, his weight pressing him down into the uncomfortable mattress. And he would shut up in the morning when their Dad would find them like this or when Dean had gone back to his bed before he woke up, took the teasing from Dean without wasting any words on Dean's excuses. Sam shut up about it and just let his brother believe that he still did it for Sammy and not because he wasn't able to sleep without being in Sam's bed. He knew his brother couldn't face this fact just yet, so he let it happen._

_Let Dean come into his bed, even when they were way too old for it. Let Dean make excuses at Sam's expense in order to get into bed with him. He was the one, who actually went over to Dean's bed when the rare nights happened that Sam had woken up alone, just to find his brother restless and groaning in his bed, unable to have a peaceful sleep because he forced himself to stay in his bed. And once he had settled next to Dean and Dean's subconscious had realized that he was there, his brother was finally able to get a good night's sleep._

_They grew used to being able to sleep apart for a few days at least, even the sleep wasn't great and the mornings were worse than the most hangovers but they managed. But Sam couldn't sleep for a week when he left for Stanford and he never was the one who needed Dean in the first place. He couldn't imagine what his brother must have gone through. Dean was not able to sleep without Sam for over 20 years and Sam just grew used to Dean being there, so him not being there was first awkward and wrong but he could manage. He was definitely able to overcome it once Jess lived with him._

_Even though he still woke up sometimes and just expected the oil and the touch, the heat and the weight._

_Sometimes he could even smell it._

_Like now. The ghost touch was there, the smell of oil and even the memory of laying in one of those crappy motel beds. It's a good memory, Sam knew. Those few where he knew that he wasn't completely useless, even his Dad had one of his fits again. Sam always knew that at least Dean would need him once it was time to go to bed._

_But it was also an older memory because once Dean was older he went out and Sam learned the hard way that that one foreign smell his brother was sporting way to often was the smell of sex. He pretended to be asleep way to often at those times but he also waited every time until his brother was done showering and soon the smell of soap hit him when his brother came to bed with him._

_Those times he never really questioned why Dean came back to him when he could stay with whatever girl he wanted._

_But those were also the times when he wished the smell of gun oil back._

_The smell of **brother**._

 

* * *

 

Sam groaned when he woke up the next day. The Sun was shining through his window and hit him directly in the face. He turned around, away from the bright light as he slowly blinked, trying to wake up fully.

His body ached. It was more stiffness than pain and he slowly turned himself on his back, arm coming up to cover his eyes. He sighed before he finally started to get aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t in his B&B room anymore, yet it looked not much different from it.

The bedding was soft and felt nice on his skin, yet it started to get hot where the sun was shining directly on the cotton. Sam resisted to get up though, he enjoyed the silence as long as he could before it did get too hot and he had to get up.

The dream was lingering in his mind but he shook his head. These days he didn’t even question it anymore, as well as the question if it was real or not. Everything was just messed up at the moment, so he sure as hell had no time to interpret dreams on top of everything.

There was a bathroom attached to the room and the water was cold and fresh as he plashed his face with it. There was no mirror in the room, so Sam slowly touched his forehead, puzzled that the cut there didn’t hurt anymore. Everything else was good too, his leg and ribs, his shoulder and his hands. There was just a soreness in his muscles but that’s okay.

Pieces from yesterday come back to him and he had to walk back into the bedroom to sit down.

He remembered everything. Nothing was blurred or hazy.

He even remembered how it felt to be manipulated by Dean Winchester from a weird point of view. How he had made him loose conciseness out there between the fields. How he had made him talk about his parents yesterday night and how he made him go to sleep.

Sam was pissed slightly but he was also grateful that apparently he had mastered the test. He was still here, he remembered everything and it wasn’t like the hunter had taken him back to the bunker or something like that. He had even grated Sam the knowledge that he was manipulated at some point (or several) during the last day.

He spotted his bag on one of the chairs next to the bed and he walked over to go through the contents. There was one more clean shirt and a pair of underwear but that was it. He put it on regardless, as well as his jeans that hanged over the backrest of the chair.

He needed a shower so bad but then he also wanted to know what was going on. So he figured that the shower could wait.

Before he stepped outside the room he walked over to one of the two windows to peer outside. The sun was standing high already (it must be late afternoon already) and the sky was cloudless once more. From the house, Sam could spot the fields and meadows through which he had fought his way yesterday. The tree line was in the way back and he even could make out the road that was winding itself through the grasslands.

He shook his head and then finally walked out of his room.

He found himself in a hallway and when he closed the door behind him, he noticed the small 5 that was attached to the door. When he looked left he saw two more numbered doors until the hallway stopped in front of a big window. Therefore he turned right and walked along the wooden floor, passing the rooms with the numbers one to four until he stood on a balcony. The room was high and when Sam looked down he saw an impressive double-doored entrance hall. The front door was made of glass and what looked like ancient wood, engravings all over its backside.

The balcony he was on run a little further along one side of the wall until it hit a curved staircase that lead the way downstairs. Sam’s hand run along the mahogany banister as he walked along the balcony and down the stone staircase.

Downstairs his glance wandered upwards once more, over the balcony until he saw the chandelier dangling in the middle of the room, and the tower-like ceiling that was made out of frosted glass.

There was a desk next to the staircase and it took Sam a moment to realize that this was an reception desk. A wooden case with keys and mail compartments hung on the wall behind it and the lamp and vase on the desk was just too cliché for Sam to not notice.

A walkthrough arch was next to the desk (and under the balcony) and as it was the only door besides the front door, Sam decided to continue that way. It was another hallway that led to another door and once Sam had reach it und peaked outside he saw that it would lead back outside. He walked halfway back to be faced with a closed door and another hallway across from it that lead further down into the house.

He checked the door first but it was locked, so he continued down the other hallway until he reach another walkthrough arch that finally had lead him into the kitchen.

It was actually quite small, there was a door to the right from Sam and it looked like it was another way to go outside. There was a huge wooden cabinet full of dishes and kitchen utensils and he could remember it from last night. Straight forward, along the wall, ran the counters, the sink and the stove, going over the corner of the room to end with a refrigerator in the far left corner of the room.

The table Sam had eaten at yesterday was standing in the middle of the kitchen, four chairs on each side of it. The wall on the left side of the room was missing though, instead there was another giant arch, that took up the whole wall and lead straight into the room that was full of books. Sam spotted the couch he had woken up on yesterday and the coffee table that still held the first aid kit. Now in daylight everything was a little clearer and his eyes roamed once more over all the books, which sure were all about lore and spells and everything supernatural.

He sighed and didn’t really know what to do. Or what he was allowed to do.

But then the backdoor opened and Sam looked up to see Dean Winchester walk inside the kitchen.

"You are awake, good." The hunter said as he placed a duffel bag on the table. "There is food in the fridge, plates and glasses are in the cabinet over there. Just take whatever you want." He nodded to Sam before he went through his bag, pulling out several guns and knives.

"What about the demons?" Sam asked as he figured that they were straight back to business. At least it didn't seem like they would go and have a nice breakfast together.

"I checked on them last night but I couldn't find any more. They either were never here or they are already gone." Winchester started to take apart one gun. "Either way I need to make sure, so you will be stuck here at least another 24 hours."

"What?" Sam exclaimed.

"Yeah, make yourself comfortable." Winchester grinned before he took the gun pieces and the duffel back and walked over to the couch. "I will make a few calls but to be sure there is probably only one place that I need to go to."

"Where?" Sam asked and stepped closer, eyes on the hunter's hands, watching how skillfully he stripped the gun apart and put them back together.

He looked up, smiling sheepishly. "Hell."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sam stared at the older man as if he had just declared himself inside. Which he had, in some way at least.

"It's the hang-out place. At short trip downstairs and I will know everything I need to know." Winchester shrugged before he pulled out a small bottle of oil. Soon the smell had spread itself in the room.

"You cannot just go hell like that." Sam continue, voice raising a note.

The hunter scoffed. "You have no idea what I can do."

Sam shut up and just stared before he huffed and stormed away, tearing open the backdoor to get outside. "Don't leave the property." Winchester was shouting after him, nothing but amusement in his tone.

Sam cursed as he stomped down the 6 steps of a small staircase that lead from the door down into the grass. He was on one side of the house what it seemed like and a small dirt way was leading him alongside it until he hit a a bigger road that was in leading to the front of the house.

When Sam turned around again he spotted the small garden that went from the side of the house behind the back of it. Apple and other trees were scattered around and Sam could make out a wooden shed and even a small stone well. There was no fence and as he turned around he saw that the fields full of golden wheat were down the road. There was a slight wind going and even though the sun was standing high on the sky, he didn't feel hot.

It was like the house was standing on its own green island in the middle of the farming side. Further behind the house he spotted more fields of wheat again and then way in the back the tree line. But the grass was cut where he was standing the the fruit trees were cut and taken care of. All of them looked perfect and there were even fruits on them and Sam wasn't sure if that was even supposed to be.

The dirt road he was on was wide and long and there was the house on one side and an area of grass on the other. Sam could hear the creek running through there and he walked closer until he could smell the wild flower.s As he turned around he finally saw the house, the one he had only seen from the distance.

"Wow…," Sam said to himself as he stared up. It was mansion-size and not at all what Sam had beed expected. He thought more in the dimension of a… well, - farmhouse. But this house was huge, the road he was on functioned as the driveway that was directly leading up to a stone stairway. It was only four steps but it had the form of a half circle and as Sam came closer, he noticed the double door that he had already seen and knew was leading to the entrance hall.

Two pillars framed the door on top of the stairway, one was completely covered in ivy but one was free of it and Sam exhaled as he saw the golden plate from his vision. Hunter's Manor. Established 1894.

He went up two steps, so he could reach out to touch the tinged metal plate. His fingers ghosted over the corner that missed a screw and he sighed as he asked himself how this house had gotten that name.

"It belonged to a guy named Arthur Hunter. He owned most of the land in this area and built it as a summer house for his family." Sam jerked around at the voice and nearly lost his balance. Dean Winchester was leaning against the other pillar, arms crossed in front of his chest as he was watching Sam. He continued before Sam could react. "Later on, I think in the early 20s, a guy named Paul Deeley bought it and used it as a small hotel. He had to sell it 8 years later again and a certain Jeremy Williams bought the house. A werewolf had killed his wife and three daughters and he had started to become a hunter. Soon he realized though that he wasn't made for that life and started to turn this house into a hideout for other hunters. It was far away, hidden and the open area around it made it perfect to keep an overview of intruders. He almost rebuilt the whole house again, adding salt and iron to the basement, protection spells on the doors and windows. He spent five years building the fence surrounding the property. You know, the one out in the woods."

Sam looked over. He had leaned himself against the other pillar and was facing Dean with the same expression, arms crossed over his chest as well. In the bright sunlight he finally could see the rest of the tattoos. He was wearing a normal shirt with short sleeves and while he was talking, Sam couldn't resist but stare at the black ink that decorated the tanned skin. It was just his right arm, the left one was still untouched and Sam wondered how far the ink was going. He teared his eyes away for a second and lied to himself that Dean hadn't noticed him staring, before he decided to pick up the conversation.

"I thought so." Sam said. "The gate in the woods… it was just too random to be there." He shrugged. "And I couldn't even open it."

"How did you even get here in the first place." Winchester suddenly asked. "There is a spell on the woods that makes you get lost. You never should have even found the fence."

Sam shrugged again. "I followed the road and it brought me straight to the gate." He grinned. "Just climbed over it."

The hunter looked at him for a moment in genuine surprise before he shook his head and smiled. "That's a first one then."

Sam couldn't help but feeling a little proud. "And the other spell? That I couldn't go back. What was that for?"

Dean Winchester grinned. "Well, if you actually would made it inside, then who would I be not wanting to find out how and why you managed?! There are a few more protection spells, like the one that made you walk for hours without actually arriving at your aim." He shrugged. "Some of them, Williams casted… mine are the not so friendly ones."

Sam was sure that he didn't even wanted to know them. "So, the fence… is it like a giant devil's trap?"

"Pretty much, yeah. It's circling the whole property, the stone socket goes deep into the ground and holds a salt ring. The iron does also but unlike the socket it can be broken by opening the gates. There are two of them. The one you found I keep close no matter what. But the other one I use to drive in and out of here. The road is better and it's more hidden than the other one." The man grinned. "That reminds me that I got rid of your car by the way."

"It wasn't my car." Sam frowned. "But thanks, I guess. I would have needed to ditch it anyway."

"You took this whole trip pretty seriously, huh?" Dean crooked his head. "Running away, stealing a car."

Sam shrugged. "It just seemed the right thing to do."

"Could have been a trap."

"Well, it wasn't." Sam spat back. He frowned as Dean chuckled and so he turned his head away. "Anyway, what do those demons want?"

"I don't know." The hunter kept his eyes on Sam. "Revenge, maybe. I never bothered to ask."

"Is it true what the woman said, then?" Sam finally turned his head around again and looked the man in the eyes. "Did you really kill Lucifer?"

"I did." It was as simple as it sounded.

"Why?" Sam would be damned if he dropped the subject now.

Dean sighed. "Personal reasons. Maybe at that moment they hadn't really done anything yet but I knew they would, so I took care of it beforehand. Saved the world a lote of trouble, trust me."

Sam nodded. His eyes darted around before they settled back on Dean again. His brain had only caught up now. "What do you mean with 'they'?" He asked startled.

"There are a few of them out there that deserved a lecture, Sammy." The hunter grinned. "And none of them had seen it coming."

He pushed away from the pillar wand walked down the stairway, there was limp in his step that Sam had noticed before. He didn't dare to ask though.

"What about the Mark of Cain?" Sam asked as he followed Dean up the driveway. Stones scrunched under the heavy leather boots and Sam had time to stare at the hunter’s back. His dark shirt was clinging to his back, outlining strong shoulder blades and broad shoulders. Yet Sam noticed the outline of the gun down where the shirt fell over the waistband of the battered and dirty jeans. Sam swallowed.

"What about it?" Dean said without turning around.

"How'd you receive it?" It would have been easy to follow up Dean, who was walking slower than Sam had expected. He kept his distance though, walking still behind the hunter.

"Wrong time, wrong place." The following laugh sounded bitter. "I was desperate, was given the option and it was supposed to solve a problem of mine."

"So… is it really a curse?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"No, it's awesome, that's why I'm damned to live alone forever because it's so fucking awesome." This time he actually stopped to turn around to face Sam. He shook his head. "It fucking sucks but I need it in order to rule hell."

"Excuse me?!" Sam just stared at him.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ, kid." The hunter laughed. "What do you think this is?" He strode over to Sam, grabbing the younger man by the collar of his shirt. It was easy for him to pull Sam closer.

The sun was gone, heavy storm clouds appeared on the sky and it was one of those things that became suddenly clear to Sam. This place was bound to Dean Winchester as Dean Winchester was bound to it. The curse of forever being alone, forever being banned from happiness.

"Look at me." The hunter hissed and Sam looked up to stare at dark, green eyes. "This was never supposed to happen, alright. But you just had to fuck it up, Sam."

Sam gasped as the green eyes suddenly were gone, black ones had appeared instead. He tried to wind himself free from the grip but all Dean did was holding tighter. The black demon eyes roamed over Sam. "They are all afraid of me, Sammy."

He tried not to move anymore but he also didn't dare to look away. "Once it was a curse but now I can accept it as a gift. Because I'm the one, who owns them all."

"No, I don't…," Sam coughed, keeping his face straight. "I don't believe it."

Dean huffed, finally releasing Sam as he pushed him away. The black eyes settled on the younger man. "Stop treating me like I'm some kind of hero."

He turned his face away. "Because I'm not."

And with that did Dean Winchester walk away, leaving Sam behind standing in he rain, which had started to fall down on them.

 

* * *

 

Sam was freezing when he entered the house again. He was drenched from the rain and his body was shaking as he made his way back upstairs to the room he had woken up in. He took his shower without saying or thinking too much, just let the hot water streak his skin red before he turned it of and wrapped himself in a towel.

It was stupid to feel sad. Or angry.

What else did he have expected?

He walked outside in the room to grab his stuff but stopped when he saw the amulet resting on his bed. He sure as hell hadn't put it there. It was on top of the white sheets, too obvious to be overseen and Sam cursed silently when he reached out to pick it up.

As his fingers brushed against the burning metal, his knees went out and his mind went black.

There were pictures.

A lot of them. And weirdly Dean Winchester was in all of them. But he looked younger and more closer than he should. Like they would know each other. Or like Sam was watching out of another person's point of view.

It lasted seconds but when he opened his eyes again he saw green.

He was laying on the floor and Dean was standing above him, a concerned look on his face, which was gone once he realized that Sam was staring back. "What the hell did you do now?"

Sam groaned and rolled himself to the side, cursing once more.

"Where did you even get that?" Winchester growled before he picked up the necklace by its leather string.

"I told you." Sam sat up and rubbed his forehead. "I found it in your car at the bunker."

"And I though we got rid of it." Dean mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to Sam, before he threw the necklace back on the bed and walked towards the door. "I made something to eat. It's in the kitchen." He stopped but didn't turn around. "I need to go and take care of something. You are safe here, as long as you stay inside the fence."

"What makes you think that I won't try to run away?" Sam asked provoking.

The hunter didn't even flinch. "Then my hellhounds are going to drag your ass back behind the fence." He stepped into the hallway.

"Your choice." Dean walked away without looking back.

Sam stared after him before he let out a streak of insults. He couldn't believe it.

(The most embarrassing part was that he had lost is towel in the process and that he hadn't even noticed until now.) There were clean clothes on his bed. They weren't his but they were washed and looked like they would fit him perfectly. He put them one, still pissed but figured that it wasn't their fault.

He towel-dried his hair as good as he could before the hunger took over for the better part and he decided to go downstairs to see what Dean had cooked.

When he walked through the walkthrough next to the reception desk and was about to turn into the hallway that lead to the kitchen, Sam noticed how the door that was locked before, was open now.

At least a little gap.

He stopped as he saw the movement inside the room. He walked the few steps back and stopped, peaking through the open slit. Dean was changing himself inside.

Sam honest to god blushed as he saw the man's naked back. He was about to draw back when his eyes caught the sight of the scars. They were running along Dean's back, over his shoulder blades and down his sides. Sam believed that they continued on his ribs. They were huge, gashes that looked like claw marks, made from claw that was at least half the size of Dean's whole upper body.

There were more tattoos on his right shoulder blade coming from his shoulder and right upper arm. One of the gashes had cut through them though, and the symbol that once was there, was split in half, scar running through it.

He must have been in the shower, the blond hair was wet and he was still only wearing a towel, which he held up with one hand. He went through what looked like a dresser and Sam though that now was the time to leave.

He tried to move as soundlessly as possible but he had obviously run out of luck days ago because Dean suddenly turned around, meeting Sam's eyes, who couldn't help but blush harder. And then the door in front of him fell shut with a loud bang. Without somebody touching it.

He sighed and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he made his way towards the kitchen.

There was chili on the stove and Sam's stomach growled as he smelled the spice. He made himself one bowl and sat down on the kitchen table to eat it hungrily. He found some bread when he went to get his second bowl and it even lasted for the third one as well.

Sometimes during the first and second one, he had heard how the front door was opened and shut again and he guessed that Dean had finally left the house.

He did the dishes and then poked around the library, pulling out books that sounded interested to him. He was right that they were about lore and different legends. There was this one book about wendigos that Sam actually started to read and the next time he looked up, it was dark outside and the clock said that it was past midnight already.

He put it aside, marking the page, and stood up to stretch himself. He hadn't heard Dean to come back yet and when he walked out of the kitchen and along the hallway, he didn't dare to open the door at the end of it. He went upstairs instead and went to bed.

Dean didn't return for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

The next two days went by like that.

When Sam got up he found Dean in the kitchen, making breakfast. He never ate with Sam but prepared the food for him. Then he disappeared outside or in his room and Sam wouldn't see him for the rest of the day until he came out to make dinner.

They didn't speak and every time Sam even tried to start a conversation, Dean just walked away.

He had claimed to cook for himself and had received a look in return that made him shut up again. Dean then did return in the late afternoon to cook something for Sam before he left the house to stay away for the night. And Sam always had to eat alone. Again.

On the second day though, he had taken the book with him and it wasn't so bad then. He read mostly during the day, despite everything, were the books he found in the library amazing and it was just a dream come true. They were like the books Sam had always imagined to read at the Men of Letters bunker one day.

The Men of Letters.

Sam sighed. It was Thursday already, the morning of the fourth day at Hunter's Manor. He was still in bed and didn't know if he would make it through another day of complete silence. Dean had told him that he would need one or two days to see if someone or something would be after him once he would leave this property again. Until now Sam had no clue what was going on.

But he knew that he had missed four days of school already, without even giving a notice of departure. His parents must have gone crazy by now. And Jess. And maybe even the rest of the Men of Letters.

He hadn't really time yet to think about what consequences he might had to face once he would return.

He did run away. From a bunker that was kept secret for decades. He stole something that had obviously some sorts of power and he didn't even think about if they might be good or bad. He had left his room, snooped around even that was highly forbidden. He had disobeyed his father, the elders and every member of the society by leaving his room and going through things and rooms he probably wasn't supposed to see for years. The whole trip was supposed to be arriving and sleeping in his room and then going through the initiation the next day and then leaving again. He wasn't supposed to stay or even know where the bunker was. He would be a part of the society and then work hard and learn and train and then maybe one day they would finally accept him and he would be able to return to the bunker and really work there, really be able to go through the rooms and the books and all the secrets that were stashed there.

But after what he had pulled, the chances were pretty low. No matter if he was the grandson of Henry Winchester, who had saved the American order that one night in 1958. He had disobeyed the rules, and even worse - he had proven himself unworthy.

Probably not even explaining this whole mess would help. He hadn't meant to abandon everything and now that he thought about it, it was stupid. But a few days ago, it felt everything but stupid. It felt important and he knew that he just needed to do it.

Even in the end, he had to learn that he was completely useless.

Maybe that was the lecture after all. All these years of wondering what it would be like to hunt those things out there and now he knew that all he probably could do was just stay at the bunker and read books. Stay away from the real things out there. Only read about them.

Sam sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Dean would even tell him today that he could go. Back to his old life.

And far away from him.

He groaned and got up, walking over to the bedroom to shower and get ready. He was used by now to find fresh clothes on his bed once he would walk back into the room, the dirty ones gone as naturally as they had appeared. He shook his head at that while he got dressed.

 

When he walked into the kitchen this morning, it smelled like pie.

Dean was standing by the stove, half of him covered in flour as well as the rest of the kitchen. He turned around to find Sam stare at him in utter shock. "Heya, Sammy." He grinned and pointed to the two pies that were already cooling in the table. "I made pies."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sam said as he stepped closer to look the most perfect apple pie he had seen in his life. "Why?"

"The apples outside were ripe." Dean turned around, watching Sam before he narrowed his eyes. "What's on your mind?"

Sam had no idea what the fuck was going on.

He had expected another silent treatment for the whole day, maybe even an 'Good Morning', you know, small steps. But he hadn't expected this.

It actually freaked him more out than when Dean was angry with him.

"So, did you find anything new?" Sam asked instead with a bitter voice. "Can I finally go home?"

Dean stopped whatever he was doing and his body stiffened. Sam could see it as he squared his shoulders, back muscles tense. He had his back turned to Sam, who was staring at the older man confused. He had tried to talk and learn, had wanted to know the truth behind the stories and all he got was threats and bruises.

If the hunter wouldn't want him to stay, then that's fine but then he should just let him go, damn it.

And not bake some fucking apple pies.

A wave of comfort swapped over him, the feeling of staying and enjoying accompanied it but it was gone as fast as it came and he stared at Dean in disgust.

"Stop manipulating me, asshole." Sam shook his head and turned around to stomp back the hallway and upstairs to his room. "Fucking idiot."

He threw the door to his room shut, as hard as he could. He heard a tinging metal on the other side of the door.

He was packed within seconds, some clothes were missing but he figured that he will manage. He threw the rest of his stuff inside his backpack and zipped it up, making sure that the amulet was still in the front pocket before he opened the door again, just to stop to see that Dean standing in front of it.

He was holding the metal number that had been attached to the door and that must have fallen off when Sam had banged it shut just a few moments ago, in his hands. His head was bowed, he stared concentrated at his hands while he outlined the five from the metal with his fingers. Sam was staring at him in wonder before his eyes widened in shock as he saw that the door number wasn't just a piece of iron but a piece of pure silver.

And that Dean's hands were completely burned from it.

He ripped the number from his hands, almost fearing that his would get burned, too. But it was just the feeling of cold metal and Sam breathed out, throwing the number on the nearest surface in the room before he stepped closer to take a better look at Dean's hands.

"God damn it." He cursed and looked up to stare at Dean's face. The man was just blinking, not reacting or saying anything at all. All he did was just stare at Sam with a look that made Sam break eye contact.

"Where do you have the first aid kit?" Sam asked instead but Dean didn't respond.

Sam pushed past him then and walked down the hallway towards room number seven. He had been in all the rooms while Dean was gone. Well, almost in all rooms. He had avoided the basement and Dean's room but he had checked out the other six rooms that were upstairs. Or the other four rooms because room six and two were locked and there were no keys downstairs by the reception desk either.

Room one was stuffed with books as well. Less then downstairs but still enough. There were also some weird boxes and a shelf full of what looked like spell ingredients. Sam hadn't touched anything in there, just in case.

Rooms three and four looked like the one Sam was staying in. A bed, nightstands, a dresser, a chair and a bathroom. Nothing special there.

Room seven though looked like a really creepy hospital room. It was completely tiled and had an open shower in one corner. There were counters with two sinks and some cabinets with instruments that Sam didn't even want to know what they were for. There was a couch on one side of the wall and Sam guessed that if this house was once a hide out for hunters then maybe it was especially for the injured ones. The whole room looked like it was there to take care of such injuries.

He had found gauze and even plaster in some of the cabinets. Needles and twine to stitch up wounds and he also found a case that contained two bottles of holy water and three bottles of whiskey.

Now though, he didn't waste any time looking around. He exhaled as he spotted the first aid kit sitting on one of the counters, glad that he had remembered right. He grabbed it and stormed back into the hallway.

But Dean was gone.

He wasn't in Sam's room either, nor in one of the others. Even downstairs there was no trace of him. Sam looked in the kitchen and the library, he even went outside to check. He panted as he stepped back inside, walking down the hallway to try the place he hadn't looked in.

The door to Dean's room was open.

It was the double door that Sam had walked by a dozen times by now. He slowly opened it before he walked into a room that was by far the biggest in the house. It was gigantic and Sam was sure that originally this was definitely not thought of as a bedroom.

The first thing that caught Sam's eyes were the wide windows that went along the whole wall across from Sam. There were heavy curtains in front of each windows that reached from the ground all the way to the top. Left and right from Sam were two walls and both of them had a walkthrough arch at the same height, right across from each other. Sam stepped further into the room, his first priority was finding Dean but he wasn't in here either.

He cursed and stared down at the first aid kit that he was still holding.

Then he started to look around once more. The wall left of him was one giant shelf that stopped at the walkthrough. It wasn't full of books but vinyls and Sam had to actually step closer to see that giant collection of music. On the right side of the room was a fitted stereo system, complete with record player and speakers. The middle of the room was mostly empty, there was a couch and a tv system placed in the far right corner, in front of the windows but they were still standing free in the room. When he walked over to the left walkthrough he saw another room, this time with one huge king bed and dresser. On the left there was another door and Sam guessed that it was the bathroom.

When he turned around to walk straight towards the other walkthrough he couldn't believe where he was standing. He hadn't walked around the whole house yet, mostly because he didn't know what would wait outside for him. He might be safe within the fence but he also got attacked within the fence. There were freaking hellhounds patrolling the grounds around the house.

The second walkthrough led into a third room that was directly attached to the middle one. Just that this one was completely made out of glass. It was huge winter garden, only connected to the house through the one wall. The walls and ceilings were made out of glass and the floor was, like the rest of the house, made of hard wood. The room was completely empty though, no furniture of any kind.

Sam was just staring at the room in utter astonishment.

He shook his head after a while before he returned to the other room and sat down on the couch, placing the first aid kit next to him. Even though he finally had the urge to pack his stuff and leave, he didn't. He would just sit here and wait for Dean to come back.

If he would come back.

 

* * *

 

He must have fallen asleep. When he woke up, his neck ached from the position he was in. The sun was gone and it was dark outside already. Sam groaned and sat up again, rubbing his eyes before he stretched himself.

The room was dark as well and it took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. He blinked as he tried to get up but at the same moment the lights turned on and Sam had to blink again, the sudden brightness hurting his eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

Sam looked up to see Dean standing in the door, confusion written all over his face. Sam huffed and finally got up. "What do you think, I was wai…," Sam stopped mid-sentence when he realized how Dean looked.

The hunter was drenched in blood.

His clothes were ripped and his hair and face were clotted with blood, dirt and grime. He wasn't exactly sure if Dean was bleeding or not. Either way he stumbled over to take a closer look, cursing as he saw the actual damage to the full extent.

"What in the holy…," Sam stopped himself from feeling Dean up to see if he had any severe injuries. "Are you alright?"

Dean just laughed, looking up and Sam caught a flash of black eyes. The man walked by him, crashing into his shoulder hard, which made Sam stumble backwards. He stared after Dean, who was limping more than usual, before he squared his shoulder and followed him determined.

Dean was walking towards the bathroom and once he opened the door and turned the lights on, he looked behind to see Sam follow. "Get out of my room." He hissed but all Sam did was stare at him.

"No."

"Don't make me say it again." Dean growled, eyes still black as he stared at Sam in annoyance.

"Did you kill anyone?" Sam took another step closer. The light of the bathroom showed him that there was a large cut across Dean's cheek, blood still dripping from it and running down the side of his face and down his neck. His hands were still burned from the silver but his knuckles were open and bleeding as well, skin was missing from one part of his arm and Sam spotted a large, dark spot on the side of shirt. "Did anyone try to kill you?" He rephrased.

Dean stripped out of his jacket and threw it into the bathtub. He hissed at the movement and cursed as he tried to take his shirt off next.

Sam was frozen in place. He didn't know what to do. The man in front of him was bleeding from several wounds and yet he was still standing. Anyone else wouldn't even be able to breathe with such injuries. There was a unhealthy crack of bones and Sam focused back on Dean, who had managed to relocate his shoulder. The shirt was ripped and had joined the jacket in the tub.

"Son of a bitch." The hunter felt up the wound on his lower abdomen and Sam actually thought he was going to be sick. Dean obviously thought so too because when he looked up to see how pale Sam had turned he closed the door into his face.

"Go get some sleep." Dean hollered through the door. "I will be fine."

Sam, who was everything but going to sleep right now, hammered against the door after he had tried to open it again but noticed that it was locked. "I can help you." He tried the door handle again. "Let me help you, Dean."

The lock clicked and Sam was too astounded to actually react. Only after a few seconds he finally opened the door.

Dean was looking at him, this time his eyes were back to green. He didn't say anything as he was pressing a wet towel to his stomach. All he did was stare at Sam. That's when Sam realized that it was the first time that he had actually called him by his name.

"There is gauze and tape in the room upstairs. In the cabinet right from the sink. And I need one of the curved needles and some twine as well." Dean said and all Sam could do was nod before he was sprinting upstairs to get the needed supplies from room seven.

When he came back, Dean had tried to clean most of the blood off.

"Here." Sam put them next to the sink before he looked up, taking in the gash on Dean's cheek. He bit his lip. "Do you think that is going to scar?"

"Does it matter?" Dean inspected his knuckles before he reached into the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a bottle of disinfectant and a tube of ointment. He looked up when Sam didn't answer.

"I think it would." Sam said instead before he turned his eyes away, busying himself with preparing the gauze. Dean was silent and when Sam looked up again and caught the man staring at himself in the giant mirror that hung above the sink. He narrowed his eyes at his reflection.

Sam hissed as he saw the wound on his cheek close itself, only leaving a red streak. But no scar.

"Okay, give me the gauze." Dean said then, still holding the towel to his stomach. Sam was still frozen. "Why don't you heal the rest?"

"You wouldn't understand." The hunter said before he put the bloody towel in the sink and reached for the gauze.

Sam caught his arm mid-way, something else had caught his eye. "That's my birthday." He said, staring at the numbers under Dean's right collar bone. He turned the man around, Dean letting it happen. His eyes caught the initials that were inked into the middle of Dean's chest, right above the heart.

"What the hell…," Sam's eyes wandered over symbols and enochian writing. He grabbed Dean's arm tighter, not caring that he got blood on himself or that Dean was actually still bleeding.

He read his name about seven times.

SAM accompanied the 2/5/83 by the collarbone. Sammy was written on his wrist. Sam on his lower and his upper arm. There was another Sam on his ribs and on the inside of his arm. The S.W. was the seventh.

He stared at the D.W. that was standing next to it, they were framing a pentagram that was surrounded by a sun.

"Who are you?" Sam finally asked, taking a step back.

"Sam, please." Dean followed him, his arm was still grasped by Sam. "I can explain."

Sam shook his head and tried to let go of Dean but this time his wrist got caught by Dean's other hand, trying to hold him in place.

" _Sammy_ …," There was pure desperation in Dean's voice and before Sam knew what was happening, he was pulled forwards and Dean's lips enclosed over his.

 

* * *

 

It felt like coming home.


	4. Chapter 3

 

 

 

Sam woke up in Dean's bed. His head was hurting and he groaned, burying his face in the black sheets before he made the mistake of breathing in deeply.

Everything smelled like Dean.

It wasn't like he remembered everything. Just bits and pieces, feelings, emotions that he remembered. Thoughts and wishes crossed his mind. He saw a few pictures though, enough to realize the truth.

So his mom was right after all, when she said that he was supposed to be a little brother.

But it wasn't like he had actually _lived_ that life.

Dean came out of the bathroom, Sam heard him and that's when he finally looked up. He had obviously lost consciousness when all that information came upon him, at least that would explain how he had ended up in Dean's bed.

He looked better, the wound on his stomach was taped and there was gauze wrapped around his left arm.

"You alright?" He stopped in front of the bed, Sam was sitting up, still rubbing his head. "What did you see?"

He stared up at Dean, whose green eyes were concerned and there was an ache in his chest suddenly and the weird feeling that this wasn't just a dream.

Dean closed his eyes. "What did you see?" He sighed.

"We were…. are… brothers?" Sam was confused and tired.

"Sam…," Dean's eyes were suddenly hurtful and he cringed, one hand reaching out but stopping himself before he could touch Sam again. "I'm sorry." He said and came closer to get his knees down on the bed. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? Dean, I don't understand…,"

But before Sam could come any further, Dean had placed both hands on either side of Sam's face and Sam felt soft lips against his.

He didn't know what to do at first but then the memory of the first kiss came back and he suddenly smelt it. The oil and the leather and all it did was bring him comfort, so he started to lean in.

He remembered the dream he had just yesterday. Where he was a kid and was craving this kind of smell and the person that came with it. It all made sense now.

The kiss was chaste and slow and when Dean pulled away Sam's cheeks were heated and all he could do was just stare and breathe.

"Wha…," He started but Dean bit his lower lip and Sam lost his line of thought there for a moment before he leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Dean's once more.

Yes, he was right the first time. It did feel like he was finally coming home.

 

Dean's hands settled on his cheeks again and he pulled Sam closer to him while Sam's fingers ghosted over Dean's stubbled cheek and up his temple until they were tangled in the blond strands of hair which was still damp from the shower Dean took.

He got pulled closer and Dean opened his lips to swipe his tongue over Sam's and the brunette groaned while he scooted even closer as he tried to press against Dean but that also meant that he had to leave the bed he was now only half sitting on.

He forced himself to pull back though and tried to control his breathing while he stared at Dean, who was panting as well, cheeks heated and green eyes glassy and with an expression on his face as if he had just found the holy grail.

"Oh god," He groaned and leaped forwards again, taking Sam by surprised as he buried his face in Sam's neck.

"I couldn't. I can't." He mumbled against Sam's skin before he leaned back, hands roaming over Sam's body. It was't sexual in any way, which confused Sam a little. It was like someone looking for broken bones. Dean's hands mapped out Sam's body, his face, pushed his hair back before he leaned forwards, catching Sam's lips again in a kiss.

"Sammy." He breathed against Sam's neck and Sam felt the swipe of tongue along his Adam's apple.

Sam's hands went up to run his fingers through Dean's hair while all Dean seemed to do was hold him. His heart was pounding and his breathing was still slightly ragged and feeling the heavy weight against his chest felt oddly good and he felt more content then he ever felt in his life.

"It's been too long." Dean leaned back and stared at Sam before he reached out and ran his hands over Sam's cheeks and through his hair and down his shoulders and down his chest and body and all while he kept looking at Sam like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Been long since when?" Sam asked. "What is going on, Dean?"

"I tried to stay away from you, I really did but then you showed up and I just knew that I couldn't…," Dean rambled on before he leaned forward and kissed Sam again and again.  
 "What are you talking about, Dean?"

"I made a deal." Dean answered and spared Sam the next question by already answering it in advance. "I made a deal with Death."

 

* * *

 

"You what?" Sam breathed. "Death? Are you fucking kidding me, Dean?"

Dean looked down at his right arm and Sam's glance followed him. The angry red of the Mark of Cain stood out between all the black ink of the other tattoos. "The mark…I needed it at that time, we needed it. But then it got worse, Sammy. I mean you were there, right?" Dean then laughed dryly. "No, of course you can't remember. But after turning into a demon, after Charlie's death, after killing all those people and after the way you looked at me, I just couldn't do it any longer. I met up with Death and just wanted to get rid of it. Or get killed, I didn't really care. Instead he gave me this speech about how it is a key and that it is protecting humanity from the worst thing ever and then he offered me this deal." Dean laughed again while he looked up into Sam's face. "Back then, it sounded like the best freaking thing ever. In the meantime I realized it's torture. And I mean this even beats hell." Dean leaned forwards to kiss Sam again. And even though Sam wanted to pull away because he wanted to hear the rest of the story, he let it happen, knowing that Dean was needing it.

When Dean pulled back, he couldn't meet Sam's eyes. "Death told me that he could give me the control of the mark. I had to give up part of my humanity for it and he had to connect the mark with my soul, where it will stay now forever but that's okay. I've been myself for decades now."

"Yourself?" Sam panted.

Dean cringed. "I do have control over the mark. I even can control the part of me that is demonic."

"You clearly did not accept it though." Sam said and his finger traced over the bandage on Dean's arm. "You refuse to heal your injuries, don't you?"

Dean didn't answer.

"So what exactly are you punishing yourself for?" Sam's eyes fell on all the scars on Dean's arms and chest.

"I abandoned you." Dean said. "I mean, I just left you and if you knew, then you would probably never forgive me for again deciding something for you and making choices over your head. I cannot die anymore, so the short pain I gain from injuries is the one thing that reminds me what I've done and it doesn't feel right to heal them just like that. Like I got rid of you just like that. They need healing and it's the only thing I just can let be." The hunter shook his head before he continued, not letting Sam comment of the whole punishment thing.

"Death said there were only two options. I will accept the mark or I won't and you would have to die because of that. He said he could turn back time, give you the life you deserve and I wouldn't have to worry anymore, all I had to do was live this new life." Dean looked up. "I mean, what was I supposed to do? Killing me was out of question and I couldn't let you die, Sammy."

"Why would I have to die?" Sam asked confused.

"So, you would stop digging. Even after I acceptted the mark, you wouldn't stop, believing that you need to turn me back human. So Death said I could stay human and have no control over the mark and he would put me away but then you needed to be gone, so you wouldn't bring me back. Or I would accept the mark, have the control and then he could just give you a better life. One, where you don't remember me and would be happy. And I wouldn't be somewhere locked away but could do something useful."

"Useful?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm still a hunter. I kill bad things, just better and faster than before."

"And why turn back time? Why not just make me forget?" Sam scooted closer, his hand, which was still wrapped around Dean's arm, tightened.

"We tried that before. That if he would just put everything behind a wall again, you would scratch it at some point. He told me that he did it before. Turning back time, you know. Not only on earth but in Heaven and Hell as well. Said something about things even the angels needed to forget. Death told me that this would be a case where he was willing to do it again. For the Mark of Cain and the thing it protects. Said he just couldn't make you forget but that you needed a whole life around you. From birth to kindergarten to first girlfriend. Or boyfriend." Dean narrowed his eyes. "He told me that he could give you that. That our parents could live as well and that you can have your life back, as well as all our other friends. All I had to do was accept the mark and go back with him in time. He said I needed to remember though, that the memories would help me to change things."

"What things?"

"Our parents were dead, Sam." Dean said. "A demon named Azazel had killed mom when you were six months old, and Dad 22 years later."

He stopped to let Sam take this in before he continued.

"Death turned back time to the summer of 1958. He said I should go and kill Abaddon right there and save the Men of Letters. I would keep Henry from traveling through time and he could return to his son. From there on I just could stay and live, and everything would be turned back to that point. Even heaven and hell. No one would remember except a handful but I shouldn't worry about those." Dean sighed. "Of course you would still be born in '83. You cannot change fate that much but you can cheat it. Even though John grew up different this time, he still fell in love with Mary. Everything was almost the same, just you were a single child and I had time to get things out of the way."

"Azazel was one of them, who didn't remember. He was still going around, trying to create his army. I had travelled back in time before and met him, he had killed our grandparents and made a deal with Mom. Back then I wasn't able to kill him." Dean's jawline was set.

"This time I was."

"Son of bitch didn't even see it coming. I found him and I ended it… after a while. Took him back to hell to get some anger out of me." Dean actually smiled at the memory. "And I did so with the others as well. I found Lilith and Ruby. As well as Meg. I killed Lucifer before they could free him. The apocalypse should have happened four years from now, Sammy. I ended it years ago already. Crowley and Metatron, Michael and Uriel, I took care of them before it was even time to do so."

"I don't really know what you are talking about. Or who." Sam shook his head. "I mean, angels?"

Dean shrugged. "They are dicks anyway."

"So Death made this all happen. He took you back in time and actually turned the universe's time back as well." Sam still couldn't believe what he was saying. "And all that, so I wouldn't remember you?"

"There was no other option, Sam. I mean what should I have done instead? Kill Death or something?" Dean laughed dryly as Sam was just staring at him.

"And I have everything under control now. Like completely under control. I control Hell and hellhounds and it's like someone gave me a damn master key for the place." Dean wound his arm out of Sam's grip. He placed both hands on Sam's cheeks.

But Sam frowned. "What's the price for this, Dean, huh? It all sounds sweet and good and awesome but where's the catch?"

Dean was quiet.

"What effects does it have? How long..." Sam stopped, knowing he had found it, found the price. "How long do you have to live like this, Dean?"

"Eternity." The answer was simple and steady and Sam knew that his brother (like what the fuck) had braced himself for it. And worse, had already accepted it.

"Eter... what? Dean, what the fuck?" Sam tried to push Dean off. "What the fuck?"

"I have to do it for eternity, Sam." Dean said and met Sam's glance with determined eyes.

"So, no peace?" Sam asked. "Ever?"

"I can move onto Heaven if I want to, settle down there like every other human soul. I just have to leave for a few business trips every now and then. If I sit forever in Heaven and enjoy my peace or if I kick some ass in between, what's the difference?" Dean shrugged and challenged Sam with a look. "Hell, my Heaven probably would be a fucking hunting fest every single day anyway. And yes, I want it. I want to continue to hunt every son of a bitch that walks on earth and if I get eternity to do it then fine, so be it."

"What else?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer right away.

"I was supposed to stay away from you." He said. "The mark.. the curse of Cain is to be alone forever. So I don't get… I couldn't risk that it all would start again, that you would come and want me to change or something. That you would look into this curse again."

"So you are forever in Death's debt, Dean."

"Everyone's in Death's debt, Sam." The eye rolling was missing but the know-it-all voice was as clear to Sam as if he actually had heard it before

"But then why am I here? Why did I find the amulet and why did I have visions that brought me here, Dean? I remember things, I saw things from a time when we actually were brothers."

"What things?" Dean leaned closer.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know." His head was spinning already. "I thought it was just a dream but now I'm not so sure. I saw pictures of you when you were younger. We were in motel rooms and you snuck into my bed at night. Then you blamed it on me, saying I had nightmares when Dad found us in the morning. Then I left for college and there was Jess but I couldn't sleep and I just don't know." Sam stopped and looked at Dean.

"That's what I've been trying to find out in the last few days." Dean once again sighed. "I mean I know the amulet, you had it from Bobby before you gave it to me. But Bobby doesn't remember it nor did he ever have something like it. I didn't put it in the Impala when I gave her to Henry."

"Well, someone obviously played it into my hands, right?"

"I know. Another reason why I just couldn't let you go."

Dean finally got up, reaching out for Sam. "Let's get something to eat. I'm fucking starving."

"No." Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I want you to heal yourself before I even make a step out of this room."

"… fine." Dean started to unwrap his arms, showing Sam a healed scar, before he took off the gauze on his stomach, revealing a closed wound as well. "Happy?" He rolled his eyes while he muttered something under his breath as he walked over to pull a shirt out of his dresser to put it on.

"I still can't believe you made this deal." Sam actually was happy as he got up as well, following Dean out of his room and down the hallway to the kitchen.

"Wasn't exactly the first time." Dean turned around and grinned. Sam didn't quite get the joke behind those words.

Once they entered the kitchen Sam went straight to the cabinet where he knew Dean kept the whiskey. He wasn't big on drinking but this screamed for an exception.

He took a sip directly from the bottle before he took out two glasses and poured them both a good amount of the amber liquid. He gave one of the glasses to Dean, who accepted his without a word.

 

* * *

 

"So what do you do exactly?" Sam said once he was full and leaned back on his chair. Dean had filled him in with more details, mostly their family history. "You just randomly go and kill every monster you find?"

"Most of them I know. Dad had this journal, you know. Once Mom died and he started hunting, he started it. I read that thing so many times, I know it by heart. So I know he hunted that werewolf in Wisconsin in '89, of course he caught wind of it once the first dead bodies had shown up. Now all I had to do was show up a few days prior, so there wouldn't be any bodies found. The same with ghosts we took care of. Most of them were haunting the place for centuries already but we only knew about them once people went missing or showed up dead. Drove around to just burn their bodies before any harm could be done." Dean shrugged while he finished his last plate as well. "Sometimes Death wants me to reap souls, too."

"He wants you to do what?"

"Reap souls." Dean repeated. "No human souls though. Other souls."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Other souls?"

"Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifter. Even demons sometimes. They are still human souls, just twisted. I reap them and deliver them to Death. What he does with them isn't my business." Dean shrugged. "They fear me, Sammy. They all fear me. They are afraid I would go back to hell and do some serious spring cleaning down there. They are running from me and don't dare to come close, knowing what I will do to them. Hell, even the angels don't come close to me anymore."

Dean smirked cockily. "Dean Winchester, most feared human being ever."

Sam snorted.

"Anyway, I can walk free, you know. Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, Earth. That's why Death was interested in me in the first place. My soul will get me into Heaven or even Hell, Earth obviously and it also guarantees me a way back from Purgatory. Even reapers aren't able to do that, they are restricted in their own ways. I on the other hand, can do what I want."

"So the Mark of Cain…," Sam nodded towards the hunter's arm. "Does it allow you to reap souls?"

Dean looked down and turned his arm towards Sam. His brother hesitated but then wrapped long fingers around his wrist and pulled Dean's arm closer. He reached out with his other hand, his fingers carefully touching Dean's forearm. The red, angry mark looked like a fresh scar, calloused on the tanned skin of Dean's arm. The F-shaped mark was glowing slightly, orange and red, just a glimmer like burned down coal. His eyes got caught by the ink then. One of the Sams was just slightly below the mark, innocently carved into Dean's skin. He traced his name with the tip of his finger.

Dean was quiet for a while. "No." He finally said and Sam knew that he wouldn't like what was coming next.  
 "I'm not reaping souls, Sam." Dean pulled his arm back and Sam let his arms fall back into his lap, still feeling the tickling of Dean's skin on his fingertips.

"I'm cutting them out of their bodies."

 

* * *

 

It was quite a lot for Sam to accept but weirdly he did not seem to care. Like he was supposed to know all of this anyway. Which theoretically he should.

If Dean hadn't made him re-live his life again.

And funnily even then he couldn't make Sam stay out of the life entirely. He might not be a hunter but being a Man of Letters wasn't much better.

His Dad had told him early on stories about what was really out there.

And Sam had wanted to learn, wanted to read about the creatures out there, the ghosts and vampires and hunters.  
Oh, especially the hunters.

And now he knew that this was what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to be a hunter. Next to Dean. Next to his stupid, older brother and he wasn't supposed to be 22 and going to college, he wasn't supposed to date Jess and his parents weren't supposed to be alive.

But he was also supposed to have Dean.

And now he did have all the other things but obviously no Dean. Hell, a day ago he didn't even know if he actually existed.

Sam was chugging down whiskey like crazy, not really paying attention to what exactly he was doing there in the first place. Dean was telling him all this stuff, all these things he was supposed to remember but he didn't and it wasn't even his fault.

"Sammy?" Dean said and Sam looked up confused.

"You okay, kiddo?"

Sam shrugged.

He really didn't know the answer to that.

 

* * *

 

He liked the kisses though. He _really, really_ liked the kisses.

And it was Dean, who had pulled him up after they finished eating and pulled him through the dark house, down the hallway and into his room, where they tumbled on the bed.  
 Sam was drunk.

He actually giggled and Dean rolled his eyes as he tugged Sam in. "Sleep it off, we continue this tomorrow, bitch."

Sam sighed as he snuggled deeper into the blankets.

"Jerk."

Dean exhaled loudly and Sam didn't really get why. He reached out and pulled him down next to him, head going to rest on his shoulder. Dean was mumbling something but Sam was out before he could even think about it.

 

Sam woke up to hot kisses and stubble against his cheek.

Dean was draped all over him and pressed tight against his side while his hands roamed over Sam's body, mapping it all out. Sam groaned as he realized how much his head hurt. Dean chuckled against his neck before finger tips ran across his temple. The hangover was gone a second later.

Sam sighed before he leaned back, giving Dean more access to his neck. The blond smiled, Sam could actually feel it, and he looked down once Dean's lips where gone to see that Dean was staring at him.

"You have no idea I much I missed you." Dean said with a low voice before he slowly started to lift up Sam's shirt, hands clawing over his stomach and up to his chest, resting over his heart.

"I know." Sam sighed and reached up to run his fingers through Dean's short hair. "And I hate that I don't."

"You are not supposed to." Dean cringed but then leaned down to kiss the skin, which was revealed when he pushed Sam's shirt further up.

"Wait…," Sam said as his breathing hitched. "I think we shouldn't."

Dean stopped the second Sam said it, he didn't let go of him but stopped the kissing, head appearing in front of Sam again. He looked disappointed. "I didn't say that I wouldn't want to." Sam added quickly, hand going up to cup Dean's jaw, thumb rubbing over stubble. "I just have a few more questions. I would like you to answer them first."

"Fine, ask." Dean huffed.

"How old are you really?"

"Well, I believe the right answer would be 36… 29 on my good days." Dean winked.

"So what? Time is just frozen for you and you don't age?" Sam asked and Dean actually looked surprised.

"Huh. I never tried if I could age my body if I want to." He grinned suggestively.

Sam rolled his eyes at him. His expression became serious. "So, brothers, huh?"

Dean coughed. "Yeah, well about that one."

"It's okay, I don't judge." Sam was the one grinning now. "Because technically, you are not my brother right now."

Dean actually looked offended.

"Well, in that case, I'm sure you don't mind this then."

Sam felt Dean's fingers on his hip bone before he could even fully realize what was happening. Dean was pressing into his side and Sam groaned. He turned into the body heat, pressing closer to Dean as he felt how hard he was.

"No… wait…," It took all of Sam's willpower to push the older man away. "No." He smiled instead before he leaned up to press a kiss on Dean's lips. "I'm still not done."

Dean groaned as he buried his face in Sam's shoulder. "What else do you want to know?"

"Everything." Sam was serious and Dean looked up to stare at him with an unbelieving expression. "You are fucking kidding me, right?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "I want to know everything. And I mean _everything_. Every lie, every plot against us, everything we lived through." Sam looked into Dean's eyes. "Tell me our life story, Dean."

Dean sighed and rolled over so he was next to Sam, hands going behind his head. "Fine, but this is going to take a while, dude."

"We've got time." Sam grinned as he turned around to give Dean all his attention. "Plus, I will make it worth your while."

Dean smirked. "Well, in that case." And then he started to talk…

 

It took them almost the whole day.

Dean was telling him everything from the beginning and at some point Sam just had to do something else than lay in bed. Showering and getting dressed was an opportunity to let the hard facts sink in. Later when they prepared food and Dean was still talking, Sam had something to focus on.

They spent some time in the kitchen, then in the library before Sam needed to get some air once Dean had reached the point where he told Sam that he had sold his soul for Sam's life.

It was late afternoon when they left the house to walk aimlessly through the fields.

The sun was shining bright but the wind was cool and fresh and Sam actually had to interrupt Dean's story to ask if it was true that he could control the weather.

"So, you noticed." Dean smirked as he bumped his shoulder with Sam's. "I do actually, I control his whole property. The way it looks like. I mean I can create trees or water, I can decide when fruits are ripe and what kind of wheat or corn should grow on the fields. Maybe it's because I made this place my home with all the magic and spells that are cast over it. But yes, I can control the weather and the nature."

"Can you do that someplace else as well?"

Dean shrugged. "It's harder but possible but I never really needed to use it."

"And the whole mind control thing?" Sam asked, staring at the wheat that was swaying in the wind.  
 "Yeah, that one I can apply to everyone." Dean grinned. "Actually… it won't be like you remember everything but I could give you my memories, so you know, you would have pictures to the story." Dean stopped and turned towards Sam. He held one hand out to Sam. "If you want to of course."

Sam bit his lip and stared at Dean's hand but then he nodded and slowly reached out to place his in Dean's. The blond smiled before he made Sam, with a sudden pull, crash against his chest. He winked and leaned down to kiss Sam firmly.

That's when everything rained down on Sam.

 

He was leaning against Dean. They were still standing on the dirt road in between the fields. The wind was warm now as Sam's body had cooled down suddenly. Dean's arms were holding him up as he processed all the pictures that had been forced into his head.

He didn't say anything at all for a while.

It took him a while to realize that he was crying.

Dean's hand ran through his hair as he was pressing Sam closer. Th brunet slung his arms completely around his brother's middle because that's all he could do right now. Dean just held him tighter.

"Damn it, Dean." Sam sobbed as he wiped his face, leaning back from Dean's shoulder after the first shock was over. He was sure that Dean was doing something to him to keep him calm and so relaxed. Maybe he forced his mind to understand everything without going completely insane.

Because after all the things he just saw, he should exactly do that. Go completely nuts.

"Well, at least the whole monsters go bump in the night thing wasn't a new one for me." Sam laughed dryly while Dean just hissed.

"It's a lot, I know." Dean's hands were soothing over his arms and Sam knew exactly that he was doing something to him, making him accept everything easier or something. Whatever it was, Sam was actually grateful for it.

"Let's go back." Dean said as he guided Sam back in the direction of the house.

 

"Did you ever regret it?" Sam asked after a few minutes of silence. Dean's hand was on the lower half of his back.

"What?"

"That you saved Henry." Sam said. "I mean, you brought him back to Dad and that's why Dad became a Man of Letters, that's why I will become one. If you wouldn't have let it happen then we all actually would live a normal life."

"No." Dean said. "Mom would still have grown up as a hunter. I thought about it but then I came to the agreement that only knowing it in theory was better than knowing nothing." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah but then I would have never found the Impala in the Bunker." Sam questioned. "I mean, what do you think this is? Fate?"

Dean laughed. "I don't think Fate is my biggest fan right now."

Sam didn't even ask.

"But I'm sorry." Dean said. "That you missed your initiation because of me. I guess you were really excited for it, huh?"

Sam shrugged before he looked over to Dean, raising his eyebrow. "You know, it was just _in theory_."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up, nerd."

 

They arrived at the house just as the sun was setting, painting everything in a bright red. "Why this house?" Sam asked as they walked up the small staircase that led up to the backdoor. They entered the kitchen and Sam turned around to Dean.

"It's well protected and hidden. I don't know, I have other houses as well but somehow I like this one the best." He smiled at Sam. "Why'd you ask?"

"Ah you know, it's just weird that you picked a town named Jericho." Sam went to get himself a glass of water. He had his back to Dean as he was fiddling around by the sink. "I mean, considering that the last time we've been to a Jericho, we started to get into hunting again."

"We didn't really start in Jericho, you know that." Dean said.

"No. You and your brother didn't start in Jericho." Sam turned around. "We did."

"You are my brother." Dean said as he stepped closer. "I mean, yes, you were reborn but you look like Sam, you have the same ticks and same preferences. You are still Sam Winchester, born in Lawrence to Mary and John. You still fell from a shed when you were five and broke your arm and there is a scar on your elbow from that time you crashed your bike into a bush. You did all those things without me being there."

"Yeah, but you were supposed to take care of me." Sam had to blink.

Dean's voice was sad and just a whisper. "But you had Mom to do it instead." He turned his head away before he walked over to the fridge. "Do you want some steaks?"

Sam didn't say anything to the topic chance but he let it drop, nodding as Dean took out the meat. They prepared and ate it in silence, no one wanting to push the topic any further.

"What about the other people?" Sam finally said as he was washing the dishes. Dean was pouring himself a whiskey. Remembering yesterday, Sam denied.

"What other people?" Dean asked.

"Bobby? Ellen and Jo? Charlie and Kevin, what about them?" Sam dried his hands as he was finished, turning around and leaning against the counter while he watched Dean. "Do you still know them?"

Dean shook his head. "I know Bobby but that's all. We've been on a few hunts together and he's Bobby. He knows who I am and what I did for the Men of Letters and he know I'm everything but human but he doesn't care. Ellen and Jo I saw again during some trips to the roadhouse, Ash as well. Because Dad wasn't hunting, their husband and father William lived three years longer, but then he died from a heart attack. I know Charlie works for some video game company and Kevin is currently like 5 or so, he will get around to going to college though, I'm sure. Some of them are fine, some of them aren't but that's okay. It's life."

"What about the people we couldn't save?"

Dean looked away. "I was always faster this time but that doesn't mean that it was supposed to be like that. I saved more than we could but I also heard that some of them died a different way."

Sam smiled and walked over to stand in front of the chair Dean was sitting on. One hand on the table, fingers wrapped around the glass tumbler. Sam leaned down to kiss Dean slightly on the lips. "You cannot save everyone."

Dean smiled sadly before he looked after Sam, who disappeared down the hallway.

 

Sam was getting his stuff from Room 5. He decided that he wasn't gonna sleep there anyway, so what's the point? He made sure to grab everything when he noticed the amulet on his nightstand. He smiled and reached for it, knowing that the visions were over.

He was right as his fingers wrapped around the metal he felt content and he pulled the leather string over his head. With his clothes in his arms, he grinned and made his way downstairs again to drop them a few moments later on the couch in Dean's room.

The blond entered the room a few seconds later, noticing Sam's clothes before he smiled. He was still holding the glass of whiskey in his hand. "So, you decided to move down here?"

Sam grinned. "I figured it was less complicated."

Dean's glance wandered over the amulet before he walked over and sat down on the couch, leaning back before he turned on the TV. Sam joined him a minute later.

"What's up with the record collection by the way?" Sam looked over to the shelves full of vinyls.

"I like music." Dean said. "And I had a lot of time enjoying it in a way I couldn't before. You know, see Led Zeppelin in concert."

"What's different than before?" Sam asked.

Dean just looked at him with a blank face. "I wasn't six for example."

He sighed. "Re-living everything could be boring but I actually liked it. Plus I knew a lot of things already, what companies you need to invest into, which places you need to avoid at certain dates. Who will win next year's Super Bowl."

When Sam didn't answer, Dean looked over just to notice that the younger man had already fallen asleep next to him.

 

* * *

 

When Sam woke up the next morning, he felt hot. The sun was shining directly in his face and the air in the room was stuffy, the bed sheet on his skin sticky.

He was alone, that was the first thing he noticed when he blinked his eyes open enough to find the room empty. He didn't really think anything about it before he turned around and went back to sleep.

An hour later he woke up again, and he groaned as he rolled around the bed, trying to wake himself up. He was in Dean's bed again (of course) and he stayed there to listen to the silent house. When he got up he found the note on the floor that said that Dean was out to get food and some other stuff.

Sam just shrugged and dragged himself over to the bathroom to get into the shower.

The water was waking him up and he waited until it was boiling hot again. He leaned back against the tiles, still somehow tired and bones aching. The last two days were a mess and Sam didn't even know where he should start with his thoughts. Everything was just too crazy and unreal considering that a week ago he was still in Stanford and hadn't guessed any of this.

Dean was flashing in front of his eyes and Sam's body was suddenly tingly. He huffed out a breath as he started to rub a hand down his body, over his flat stomach and over his thigh before he wrapped a hand around himself. He groaned, head going back to lean against the tiles as he was stroking harder, hand grabbing tighter around him and he groaned again, starting to pump his hand up and down faster.

He wasn't going to last long, he knew that and all it took was the memory of Dean's taste on his lips and he was over the edge instantly.

He watched his orgasm getting washed away by the water and it took him a minute to control his heartbeat again before he washed his body and hair again.

He stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel to dry himself. He wrapped the towel around his waist before he grabbed another one, drying his hair with that one. When he walked out of the bathroom he froze in the middle of walking, blushing furiously as he noticed him.

Dean was laying in his bed, leaning against the headboard with his hands behind his head. He was mustering Sam with an amused expression.  
 "Had some fun, kiddo?"

Sam didn't answer before he walked closer to the bed. "When did you get back?"

Dean just smirked suggestively.

Sam shook his head and wanted to turn around to find some clothes when Dean patted the bed with one hand. Sam sighed but came closer until he could crawl onto the bed, losing his towel in the process but neither he nor Dean seemed to care.

He went up the bed to a point where he could straddle Dean. "So, where've you been?"

Dean smirked and shrugged. "You know, the store, the woods, Hell."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah, had to run some errands…," Dean's eyes travelled along Sam's body. "I brought you food."

"Really?" Sam half-slurred while scooted forwards, making a point by dragging his hips along Dean's lap. The blond squirmed, hands going up to grab Sam's hips to hold him still while his eyes flashed black for a second.

Sam drew back, a little puzzled by the reaction. Dean averted his eyes, keeping his hands on Sam though. "Sorry." He mumbled, then he ran his fingers through his hair.

"It's okay." Sam said and leaned down, lips slanting over Dean's as he started to kiss him slowly.

Dean pulled back, eyes looking into Sam's face with an expression that Sam couldn't read. Or didn't know.

He cringed about that before he latched onto the hunter's lips. Determination affected his next moves. His hand cramped around Dean's neck, pulling him closer as the kissing grew more violent.

Until Sam tasted blood.

He flinched away with a gasp while he reached up to ran his thumb over his lips. When he pulled back he saw the red on his skin and tasted the iron on his tongue.

Dean was staring at him, lip bloody before he licked it off. The cut Sam obviously had caused was healed.

"Did you just…," Dean was staring at him in utter shock. "Did you bite me?"

"I… uhm…," Sam looked away, the stories Dean had told him in the last hours were whirling through his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay…," Dean said, hands cupping Sam's cheeks as he was about to turn his head away. Dean kept him steady and didn't let him break eye contact. "Hey, it's okay, Sam." He smiled and leaned forwards, kissing Sam gently.

Sam moaned and he scooted closer, his hips scraped over Dean's hard-on.

"Sammy…," Dean's hands wandered over his back and down to his ass, pushing them closer together. Sam fumbled with Dean's clothes for a while but they never broke the kiss.

Sam ached as Dean finally got to prepare him, body sweating and winding until they finally could become one. Sam moaned as he moved his hips up and down. Dean's hand cramped into his shoulder blade.

Sam hissed but kept moving his body in a rhythm, which he somehow knew was making Dean crazy.

They panted, both too flushed to speak any words. Sam supported himself on Dean's shoulder, trying to concentrate on his moves but his vision went white as soon as Dean wrapped a hand around him.

He slumped forwards, wet strands of hair glued to his forehead as he rested his head on Dean's shoulder, still moving his body with Dean's help until he could feel that Dean was about to come as well.

As both of them came down from their high, Sam looked up and moved his head so he could kiss Dean firmly. They stayed liked this for another moment before Sam groaned, body warm and sticky and he knew that he needed to take another shower.

"Just a sec." Dean breathed as Sam started to squirm. "Give me a minute and we can go together." He smiled against the skin of Sam's shoulder, where he had his head buried.

Sam grinned, hand going up to ran it through Dean's short hair. "Sure thing, old man."

 

He didn't get to shower for another two hours.

 

* * *

 

It was pretty easy for Sam to forget.

Forget that he was supposed to live a different life than this. Forget that he ran away without a word and that he had a girlfriend and parents, who were surely sick from worry and yet he couldn't seem to care.

Maybe it would have been easier if he could forget.

He couldn't answer though, which would be easier. Forgetting Dean or his old life.

Living with Dean felt… content. Like this was what Sam was supposed to do. Which, truth been told, he should.

Yet the threat was always hanging in the air, even if Dean seemed to take it easy. He reassured Sam that nothing would happen to them and that all they could do was enjoy the time. Of course the time of separation would come but neither of them was ready to think about that.

Because otherwise life felt great.

Dean was telling him all these stories, all these things he did in this new life and a few things they did in their old life. It always tugged at Sam's heart to know that there were memories of his he couldn't access, probably would never be able to remember them and for Sam, they held the answer to everything. The answer to this, to their life.  
 To Dean.

Because he didn't understand him, he couldn't and wasn't allowed to and god, if he just could have those memories.

Sam was standing in the kitchen and was currently cleaning the dishes while he had one of those moments again. Where is mind would take of and think about everything. Where the worry would come back to start creeping through his body again.

"Sam!" The voice was rather far away.

"Sammy!" Sam snapped out of it and turned his head to look at Dean.

"C’mere," Dean breathed and Sam didn't need to get told twice before he dropped the plate in the sink full of soap water and strode over to the couch, where Dean was sitting grinning, a nearly empty glass of whiskey balancing on one knee. He reached out for Sam and the brunet dove in. Dean laughed and slung his arm around Sam's neck, pulling his head close to his face so he could breath in the scent of the younger man, still grinning as Sam struggled to get out of the headlock. "Dean… stop it…,"

The blonde chuckled amused as he buried his face in Sam's hair, arms still deadly tight around Sam's neck, keeping him in place. He felt Sam swallow against his arm and then breathing but before he could realize what was happening did a set of teeth wrap around his wrist and Sam bit down.

"Son of a…," Dean pulled his arm back as fast as he could, the tumbler with whiskey clattering on the wooden floor, then rolling onto the carpet. "Bitch… Sam!"

Sam was laughing loudly, sitting back on the couch on his knees. "You deserved that." Sam stated while Dean took a closer look as his wrist, bite marks prominently showing. He rubbed it while he glanced sideways at Sam, shaking his head and frowning before he bent down to pick up the unbroken glass. "Now there's whiskey on my carpet."

"You want a minute alone to cry?"

"Shut up!" Dean placed the glass on the coffee table and sucked his fingers as a few drops of alcohol ran down on them. "It was the good stuff." He defended himself when he saw Sam stare. "You are lucky there was only a drop left."

Sam rolled his eyes before he crawled over, placing both hands on Dean's shoulder and pressing the older man back into the couch. Straddling him, Sam sank down, pinning Dean underneath him and Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to make it up to you?" Sam slurred and leaned closer, tongue coming out to wet his lips.

"How about you get me another glass?"

Sam straightened. "Really, dude?"

Dean just laughed heartily and his hands came up to grasp Sam's shirt tightly, yanking him forwards. Sam's eyes widened in surprise as his chest collided hard with Dean's but before he could complain rough lips closed over his.

Sam couldn't really put his finger on it but his mind shut down, and he scooted closer as much as he could, pressing his full weight down into Dean's lap as he reached up and tried to get a handful of blond, short hair. It wasn't like anything he ever experienced - not that he could brag that much - but this felt different. Like there was something else behind it, like they could change the world with this.

Or more like they could own the whole fucking universe as long as they were together.

Those thoughts made Sam dizzy or maybe it was just the way Dean kissed him. Desperate and hungry, like all the other times. There was only one word that Sam could think of to describe the way Dean treated him, the way he touched and kissed him, the way those green eyes followed him everywhere. A dozen words could describe it but Sam only could think of one - _starved_.

It was the desperation of a man, who had accepted death as his fate. A man, who finally found a reason to pray again.

To worship.

And Sam tried so hard to understand it. Because he felt the same and yet he didn't. He had the feelings without the reasons behind them. Of course they were there but Sam couldn't say why because he didn't know. He didn't have the memories. How this started.

How Sam and Dean started.

He didn't know.

And it frustrated him.

Because Sam didn't need any words, any confirmation. All he needed was a look into Dean's eyes. It should scare him what he saw there, the determination of this man. The need and want and the reason that no matter what, Dean will always choose Sam. Over everything.

Sam sure was loved. By Dean and by his family and friends. But this wasn't about love. This wasn't some cheesy movie about a couple that finally found themselves, so they could live happily ever after.

This was about belonging together. This was about beating Death and God and Heaven and Hell. They wouldn't get separated through Death, hell, that probably would only be the beginning.

 

* * *

 

One morning, Sam woke up with just ache and pleasure and he didn't know which one was more painful. He was wrapped around Dean when he opened his eyes, stomach growling as he hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.

They were too busy to care about food yesterday.

"Saaam…," Dean slurred in his sleep and he wrapped his arm tighter around Sam and pulled him closer. "Go b'ck t' sl'ep."

"I'm hungry." Sam mumbled tiredly but instead of getting up he turned his head so he could press closer to Dean.

"Hmmhm," Dean mumbled before he turned his head into Sam's hair and went back to sleep.

Sam tried to do the same but his stomach wouldn't let him, so he figured he should take care of it. He ended up crawling out of bed and walking down the hallway into the kitchen to find something he could make for breakfast.

He was taking out some eggs when he heard the howling outside.

He dropped everything to open the back door curiously. Cool wind was blowing in his face and he walked barefoot down the stairs until he stood in the grass outside the house. The howling came from several directions and Sam was about to run back inside to get Dean when his brother came out at that exact moment.

He was dressed and ready, shotgun in his hand.

"SAM!" He hollered and Sam looked up from where he was standing as Dean came down the stairs. "Get back in the house."

Sam stumbled back to the stairs and waited until Dean was standing in front of him . "There are demons circling this property. I need you to go back in the house and I need you to stay there." Dean's eyes flashed black for a moment and Sam nodded before he took two steps at once up the stairs.

"Wait until Cerberus is inside, then lock the door." Dean shouted before he walked in the direction of the woods.

Sam nodded again and left the door open until he felt a draught by his legs. A bark was heard and he closed and locked the door.

He then went into Dean's room, sitting on the bed while he knew that there was a hellhound by his feet, protecting him from whatever was out there.

 

 

It was dark when Dean returned, and he was sore and bloody but Sam smiled once he saw that the wounds he had were healed already. He helped him anyway and Dean let him before both of them fell exhausted into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

"By the way, I really like your car." Sam said later on as he was drawing random circles into Dean's sweaty skin. They were wrapped around each other on the bed, sheets tangled between their legs as Dean continued to tell him about what just happened.

More demons had come to look for him. But they didn't know anything about Sam, which was the one thing that put Dean at ease. He still had tried to make a point by claiming Sam as his a few hours after the incident.

Sam chuckled and leaned up to nip at Dean's lower lip. Dean actually looked scandalized. "Of course you do, that is even out of the question."

Sam scoffed but shut up when Dean latched on his neck.

"Will you ever go and get it back?" Sam asked, trying to keep the conversation up. He pushed Dean slightly away. He knew that he needed to keep Dean calm and his mind off of the demons. Random topics just seemed right now.

Dean smiled. "I might have changed my mind on that, yes."

 

* * *

 

Sam had been gone for exactly three weeks when everything broke apart.

 

* * *

 

"Damn it…," Dean boxed against the table and cursed some more. "What?" Sam looked up confused. "They put an APB out on your ass. God fucking damn it, Sam."

"An APB? They are looking for me?" The book in Sam's lap collided with the floor as he straightened himself up.

"Well, obviously." Dean sorted through some papers, frowning as he was still looking at his laptop, checking out the police radio. "It's not like you left a goodbye letter for your parents, right?" The blond sighed and stood up, walking towards the kitchen to get a beer. Dean opened the fridge but paused before he closed the door and turned around to grab the bottle of whiskey. He took a long drag, hissing at the burning sensation.

In the meantime, Sam had gotten up and walked over to the laptop to read the missing's person report his parents had filed.

"What are we doing now?" Sam scrolled through the page and frowned.

"What do you think?" Dean hissed. "We have to leave. Once the local sheriff sees this, he will come to look for you. He saw you, right?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, in the diner on my first night here."

He was confused by the way Dean was treating this. The last two days were awkward already, Dean pulling back at random times and he was even gone through the whole last two nights. Sam knew that something was off. He looked up. "Can you not make them forget or something? I mean we ditched the car, like literally, the people won't remember me, so why run away?"

"Maybe because you paid your room with your credit card, genius? Right now, they are tracking you down to this place and sooner or later they will come here." Dean walked out of the kitchen while Sam followed him, still not believing what just happened.

"And?"

"And?!" Dean opened the door to his room and looked for Sam's backpack. "I still got a bunch of demons out there. Do you really want your parents look for you in the woods? Or Jess?" Dean stopped and turned around, looking at Sam, who was still standing in the door. "Do you really want that, Sam?"

Sam bit his lips. "No, but…,"

"So let's go then before they actually come here." Dean interrupted him. "Let's keep them away from here. I don't need a bunch of people with the name Winchester in this area. Demons might not be the smartest species but they sure aren't dumb. A little digging and they will find out about the Men of Letters and maybe even what I did for them."

"So… you want us to go?" Sam followed Dean with his eyes and his brother randomly threw some clothes in his backpack. A minute and he was ready to go.

"Everything will be alright, trust me." Dean said and he must have seen Sam's panicked face because he walked over and grabbed his face tightly to kiss him gently on the mouth. "I've been thinking about this for a while now. If you know Dad like I do then you honestly wouldn't have expected him to drop this. Of course they were looking for you, so let's just come clean, alright?" Dean smiled. "I mean of course I could hide you from the police but we can make things just easier if you go home and show that you are still alive."

"You've been thinking about this for a while now? What? Dean, why didn't you say anything?" Sam pulled back. "I mean of course I miss them but this, I cannot give this up. Us. I won't."

"I know." Dean's smile turned sad. "So let's go and make your parents call back the cops and then we can work out the rest of the story."

"Can you manipulate them?" Sam asked. "You know, make them believe whatever we are telling them?"

"Of course." Dean kissed him firmly. "We will go together, alright?"

"And you won't leave me, right?" Sam grabbed Dean's shirt tightly. "If I come with you and we go there, then we will figure out a way to be together, right?"

"Of course." Dean ran a hand over Sam's hair, voice calm and soothing. "I will always be there for you, Sammy."


	5. Chapter 4

 

 

The drive back to Kansas was awkward and quiet and Sam didn't have to tell Dean where to go and before he knew what was happening, they were parking in front of Sam's house.

Dean gave Sam a once over before he coughed. "Pull your shirt up."

Sam looked down confused before he blushed as he saw the dark marks along his collar bone and chest and he quickly pulled his shirt further up towards his neck, hiding the hickeys from people's eyes. He looked up and squirmed on his seat while Dean just grinned at him, obviously amused yet the pride was sparkling in his eyes and it made Sam groan annoyed.

He tried to lean over then but Dean moved back at the same time, pulling up an eyebrow and his eyes went past Sam towards the house. And just like that Sam knew that they were watched. And that Dean had known that since the second they had arrived here. He rolled his eyes again just to make a point.

Dean smirked before he leaned back and nodded towards the car door. "They get more nervous by the minute."

"I don't even know what to tell them, what are we gonna tell them?" Sam reached for the door handle and opened the door, getting out of the car, knowing that he shouldn't dare take any longer. The door creaked and he shut it loudly before he opened the back door, reaching in to get his backpack. Once he pulled back and straightened up again he saw that Dean had gotten out as well, watching him over the hood of the car.

His face was neutral but his eyes darted back to the house and Sam could feel an unease radiating off Dean until he realized that the house behind him was the house where Dean had lost his mother.

Their mother.

"You don't have to come…," Sam started but Dean scoffed before he could finish the sentence. "Don't be stupid. Your Dad would hunt down my ass anyway."

Sam didn't miss the phrasing but he dropped it and closed the back door, still facing Dean over the hood. "So what? We're gonna tell them that you are my unborn brother, a hunter and probably the King of Hell?" The sarcasm was dripping and the corner of Dean's mouth twitched but he stayed silent.

"Just go, they are wondering if they should call the police."

Sam groaned but grabbed his bag tighter before he turned around and walked up the walkway to the two-story house he grew up in. Dean stayed back, let Sam get closer to the house than the car before he followed, keeping his movements slow and controlled.

There was a pang in Sam's chest, wanting Dean closer than so far away but he knew that for his parents' sake he had to pretend that he was safe from the strange man, that until now it seemed like Dean was a kidnapper of some sort. He sighed as he reached the porch and the door flew open, his dad and grandfather standing there towering at the door.

"Samuel?" It was the only thing Sam brought out as he saw his mother's father. Samuel was there, next to his Dad, gun ready in his hand, and he didn't even look at Sam. He had his eyes fixated on Dean, who was still hanging around by the curb. They must have called Samuel, which shows that this whole thing was bad, that this wouldn't be something Sam could sweet talk over. If his dad had actually asked for a hunter's help then this matter was more screwed up than Sam had thought.

"Sam!" His mother forced herself through the two men and took two steps towards him before she slung her arms around Sam's neck. Sam's heart ached at this gesture and how her voice broke and he dumped his bag on the ground. He enfolded his mother in his arms and her desperate laughter rang light in his ears. Having outgrown her long ago, he put his cheek on top of her head and breathed in.  
"Sam," she repeated as if she would have to confirm it for herself again that he really was there. She grasped his jacket tightly, a sob running through her and shaking her body violently. Sam sighed and hugged her tighter, soothing a hand down her back to calm her down.

He looked up to see his father stare down at him, still standing broad shouldered in the door next to Samuel, who hadn't taken his eyes off Dean the whole time. Sam tried to turn his head to see where Dean was in the meantime but Mary held on too tightly and every time he moved it seemed as if she would just hold on tighter.

"Mom, it's okay. I'm okay." Sam gently tried to pry her away from him and she let him before she looked up to him with wet, dazzling green eyes. Sam felt a little sick to his stomach when he recognized Dean's leaf-green eyes in his mother's ones. He never paid that much attention but now that he was looking at her face he recognized quite a lot of similarities. She even had some of the freckles that dusted Dean's body and her hair was just a slight nuance blonder than Dean's. He swallowed hard and had to step away from her, the sick feeling growing in his stomach.

She sobbed once more and rubbed her eyes before her glance then wandered past Sam and fell on Dean. Sam watched her closely and he didn't know what exactly he had expected from her but he couldn't wait to see her reaction when she would look at Dean for the first time. But she did nothing, her face didn't change at all while she took the other man in. Sam didn't know what he was looking for, it's not like he could have expected to see recognition in her face, but he wanted to see something. Some reaction she had when she looked at Dean, who was basically a male version of herself.

Okay, that sounded just wrong.

"Mom, it's okay." Sam said again and tried to ignore the hammering heart in his chest, something Dean would obviously hear or feel or however his creepy spy senses would work. He then looked at his dad, who was like Samuel just fixating Dean now.

"Uhm… this is… this…," Sam quickly spoke up, whipping around to point at Dean, who was closer now, eyes fixed on Mary more than the men, who looked like they would want to shoot him right now. Sam was sure that Dean was aware of the danger, if it even could be titled danger in Dean's case and it showed how he carried himself when he didn't even need to pay attention to John and Samuel and instead could focus on something else. Something more important.

Just like that, Dean blinked and looked away from Mary, meeting Sam's eyes for a second and Sam saw the hurt and the love, the desperation and the need flash in them for a moment. "This is Dean." Sam finished up after he had compelled himself to turn around again and he smiled at his parents and grandfather as if everything was just normal. "He's a hunter."

"Sam." His father said and it was in a tone which indicated for Sam to take his stuff and disappear in the house and stay there.

Sam shook his head and even stepped back, towards Dean and away from his family. His mother looked at him with wide eyes but Sam continued to shake his head. "He… uhm… he… saved my life."

"Get in the house, son." Samuel now said and Sam saw John twitch at the words but he stayed quiet, looking at Sam firmly.

"I was… I mean I got… I…," Sam stammered and put a foot back without stepping really back but the hint was there and he saw how his father grew more impatient, and how the anger now reached his face.

"Get in the house, Sam!" John repeated with clenched teeth and he moved for the first time and stepped out on the porch. That's when Sam saw that his Dad was holding a pistol in his hand. It looked ancient and Sam didn't even know his father owned a gun like this.

Sam squared his shoulders and he heard Dean breathe out behind him. "No." He stared straight up at his father, who went rigid just when Sam felt a hand on his shoulders. Dean mumbled something under his breath (Sam could swear that it was something that sounded pretty much like "stubborn little bitch") before he stepped even closer, so that Sam could feel the heat radiating off Dean's body.

Which was honestly not really helping at this moment.

"Sam." Dean breathed and Sam shouldn't react to that while he was standing in front of his parents but there was a pleasant shudder that ran through his body when he heard his brother's voice. "Go inside."

"No." Sam repeated and this time it was actually more to protect his parents from Dean than to protect Dean from his parents.

Sam knew that Dean rolled his eyes annoyed at his words but he didn't say any more. "I'm Dean Singer." He said over Sam's head instead and Sam noticed that he wouldn't pass Sam because that would mean that Dean would be pushing himself in front of Sam and between him and his parents. Instead he stayed behind Sam, keeping Sam in the middle, so he was accessible to all of them. But he kept his hand on Sam's shoulder and technically Sam knew that this already went too far but it showed him that Dean actually wanted to put himself in front of Sam no matter who they were facing. He didn't know how much it cost Dean to not do it and to tell himself that he couldn't stand between Sam and his parents. That he wouldn't have the right to do so.

Yet Sam knew exactly that Dean thought he had the right. That nobody but him would have the right.

So touching Sam was the only thing that he could do without raising too much suspicion.

But Sam also knew that he didn't want to know what would happen if Dean wasn't even allow to do that. How far could he really be pushed away from Sam? How far would he let himself be pushed away?

Because something told him, despite that fact that these are his parents and that Dean would have to act like a normal guy, who would bring a runaway kid back home, that Dean's patience would only last so much. That there would be some point where not even Sam could convince him to keep a straight face anymore.

And in the end, Sam was pretty sure he knew who would walk away from this as the winner.

"Singer?" Samuel was the first to break the silence. He gave Dean a once over. "As in Bobby Singer?"

"He's my uncle."

John looked over and Samuel nodded slightly, probably confirming what they had expecting all along. That Dean was actually a hunter.

The hand on Sam's shoulder cramped and Dean nudged Sam invisiblly forwards, so Sam took a step closer to his mom. Dean followed and when Sam turned slightly to look into Dean's face, he saw the hunter's eyes dart over to Mary every once in a while. "We were actually hunting out in North Dakota… witches." Dean's attention focused on John, ignoring Samuel completely. Sam looked back at his dad, who had noticed this as well and it seemed like he actually appreciated it. "That's when we ran into this one." Dean nudged Sam, this time visibly and Sam swayed a little at the impact.

"Witches?" John asked tightly and his glance wandered over to Sam.

"Yeah, nasty bitches." Dean coughed. "Actually as Men of Letters you should have heard of them… the Baxter Clan?"

John narrowed his eyes and looked at Sam disapproving, who couldn't do anything other than look down at his hands. Dean's thumb pressed into his shoulder slightly before soothing the spot again.

"We have some artifacts of them from former hunts." John slowly answered and now Sam knew what Dean was getting at.

"Cursed, obviously." Dean stated and he gave Sam a side-glance. "They use cursed objects to hex their victims and make them come to them by themselves. You don't even have to touch the thing, their spell is powerful enough to jump over to the next vic who fits their preferences and just comes close to it."

"Preferences?" Mary choked and all eyes were on her. She stepped closer, despite Dean being so close to Sam and claiming his other side by grabbing Sam's arm tightly.

Dean shrugged. "Young, male, female, blood type, virgin." He grinned. Sam rolled his eyes.

"All I know is that when we cleared out the circle while they were about to perform a ritual, we found three other guys Sam's age. They were all okay but when this one told me he was a Winchester, I thought I better deliver him back personally." Dean smiled brightly and Sam couldn't believe that he actually had the nerve to try to charm his way out of this. In front of his own family.

His Dad seemed startled and Sam was starting to ask himself if no one paid close enough attention to see the similarities. Okay, Sam himself hadn't recognized Mary's eyes in Dean's at first but now that they were actually standing next to each other, the chances were quite big. But on the other hand, what rational explanation could there be for it? Million people had green eyes.

It was the smile mostly. Sam had seen old pictures of his parents, some of them were taken in the heat of the moment when no one was actually expecting it. No one had posed for them, so they were just several ones where it was John and Mary at random times. Sitting in a diner, on the hood of a car, at the beach, dancing, laughing. And it was these pictures that showed Sam how they really were back then. When John was looking down at her with a certain fascination and she was smirking up at him, perkily like she knew that she had wrapped that boy around her little finger so easily. She seemed confident and knew how she appeared to others.

Dean carried that same smile. And the knowledge that he knew how he comes across.

Or maybe that's just Sam, over-analyzing everything.

"So you know about the Men of Letters?" John asked and stopped Sam's line of thought right there. He focused back on the conversation.

"I've… been around for a while. Yes." Dean answered and it sounded cocky, which also reminded Sam of the fact that Dean only looked like he was in his early thirties. "Anyway, witches are taken care of, so whatever cursed object you still have of them, shouldn't work anymore. The spells were broken." It was like Dean suddenly had the urge to leave.

"Thank you."

Sam froze and Dean's hand cramped in his shoulder violently as Mary had spoken up. She was still holding Sam's arm but leaning forwards now to look up at Dean with wet eyes. "Thank you for bringing Sam back."

Dean was silent. "Of course." His voice was thin suddenly.

And then he turned around and left.

"Wait… what… DEAN!" Sam felt the loss of Dean's warm hand instantly and the coldness spread through his body and bones. He whipped around, pulling himself free from his mother and running after the older man, ignoring his father's angry calls.

"Dean." He breathed as he finally reached him. Dean stopped and turned around to watch Sam stand in front of him, one hand already on the roof of the car. Out of his eyes Sam saw that his father and Samuel has stepped out of the house but Mary was holding them back.

"What do you mean 'of course'? Was this… you never planned on keeping me around?" Sam's voice broke because of course that was clear from the beginning. It was stupid of him to even ask that.

"Sammy, I can't." Dean looked over his shoulder. "I can't keep you if that would mean keeping you away from her." He averted his eyes. "I can't do that to her."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's alive and healthy and happy and she loves you so much and you cannot ask me to keep you around if that means hurting her. No matter how selfish I am, I never could do that… to her. Not when she's…," Dean stopped and it was the first time that Sam saw something like hurt flash through his eyes.

"But that doesn't matter, right." Sam urged to step closer but he knew that six eyes were watching every move, so he forced himself to stay put. "You want me."

Dean looked at him with firm eyes. "I always will and you know that. But this… this is what I wanted for you." He nodded towards the house. "This is what it should have been the first time."

"But we wouldn't have grown up as we did, Dean. You really would have wanted us to grow up as a white picket fence family?"

Dean still stared at the house, his eyes were empty and his mind was at a different time, a different world. "It sure beats the alternative."

"All I'm asking you is not to leave." Sam continued and Dean's eyes cleared. "Please."

"I can't, Sam. I always knew I couldn't. I managed to stay away from you and this family for so many years now because I knew that if I'd ever met you again I couldn't resist. Even if I leave now, I still couldn't but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter what I want. You belong here, your are supposed to belong here. Mom and Dad are alive, you go back to college, to Jess. You are alive, they are alive and if that means that I can't be in the picture, then that's a price I'm willing to pay, no matter the consequences. I knew that when I did the deal, alright. You cannot ask me to break their hearts by taking you away from them. That would be worse than when they were dead."

"So you are willing to hurt yourself just so they can be happy?" Sam clenched his teeth and still forced himself to stand still.

"That was the whole purpose of this all, remember?" Dean's laugh was empty as his eyes were. "I won't take you away from them, Sam. And you shouldn't ask me to do that. You wouldn't if you knew…"

"All I knew is that this isn't what it is supposed to be. It's not supposed to be me and them, it's supposed to be us, alright, all of us." Sam grew desperate because he knew that he was running out of time, that his parents and Samuel were growing impatient.

"Not for them." Dean said. "For them it's just supposed to be you."

"But there is nothing that could happen now. You are stronger, right? Nothing will come after us this time!" Sam hissed.

"And what exactly are you gonna tell them, huh? That I was supposed to be their first son but hey, they are actually dead and we went to hell and back, got deep-fried by Lucifer himself and then I made a deal with Death, so they could have a second change at life and that's why they don't remember that they were supposed to have a second son. And speaking of it, please don't treat me like a son because currently I'm fucking your other son and of course we wouldn't want it to be awkward, right?" Dean scoffed. "Come on, Sam. This is fucked up enough as it is."

Sam was quiet because he couldn't think of an good answer right away. He needed to think faster, god damn it.

"Quit thinking too hard, Sammy." Dean laughed then quietly. He sounded broken. "This isn't what it is supposed to be, so it will be better if you just forget it." That's when there was suddenly a spark in his eyes and he looked up.

"No." Sam snapped. "You made me forget twice already and look how that worked out."

"You will survive it." Dean just said plainly.

"Will you?" Sam asked instead and Dean just looked at him for a moment. "It hurts already if you are only steps away from me, Dean."

"It's worth the price, Sammy. You always will be mine, you know that. I will know that. But they deserve this, you deserve this and I'm willing to pay for it. So you gotta play along, little brother."

"No, D…," Sam stopped because he didn't know the name he was supposed to be saying, wasn't he supposed to know the face of the man in front of him. He was hurting, his head was hurting and there was flashes of white and forrest, women in robes and candles and when he blinked again he was standing next to the hunter, who had saved him from a bunch of witches. He couldn't remember all the details but he knew he woke up in the middle of the woods and then this man came and saved him, and he told him his name and then they were on their way back to Lawrence. Sam couldn't remember what happened but the hunter told him that his family was looking for him for weeks already. And now he was standing in front of his house.

"Mom?" Sam said and turned around when he saw his mother. "Mom!"

She shook her head as if she had to shake something off and then she looked at Sam and ran over to him, tears in her eyes when she finally met him and her arms went around his neck to hold him tight. "Sammy." She sobbed. "Sammy, oh god you are alive."

Sam looked up and saw his Dad and his grandfather walk over as well. His parents must have asked Samuel for help after they noticed that he went missing. Their looks were puzzled and tired, kinda like Sam felt but their eyes were on the man, who had brought Sam back. Said man stepped forward and extended his hand for John to shake. "John Winchester?" John nodded.

"My name is Dean Singer, my uncle Bobby and I were hunting witches when we ran into Sam here. Heard about the APB and figured we bring him back before the police could ask stupid questions." Dean said and looked at Samuel, who nodded at him.

"Yeah, Bobby Singer, good hunter." Samuel confirmed to John and then shook the hunter's hand as well. "Thanks son for saving my grandson."

The hunter nodded at that and was about to turn around, when Mary released her grip on Sam a little to lean back and look the man in the eyes. "Thank you for bringing Sam back."

The man smiled a sad smile. "Of course."

He was about to turn around again but caught himself and turned towards Sam to look at him directly. He smiled warmly. "Stay safe, Sam."

Sam nodded and stared at the hunter's back as he moved around the car to get inside. His mother turned her head in the crook of his neck again and sobbed once more while his Dad came closer to squeeze his shoulder reassuring. But Sam stared after the Pick-up even after it was long gone and there was this feeling building in his stomach that told him that something was wrong.

And aside from that, he could have sworn that the green eyes of the hunter had looked familiar to him but he just couldn't figure out why.

 

* * *

 

The next days were a haze for Sam. His parents asked him a dozen of questions, so did Samuel, who seemed like he was going to stick around for a few days and for once his Dad didn't complain about it. But he couldn't remember anything except that he went to sleep in the Bunker and the next thing was that he woke up in the woods and then the hunter had found him and then he was driving home and even those were just fragments of memories.

Mary kept him in the house for a week, not letting him out of sight and then there were the police, who came by and asked him another set of stupid, meaningless question because damn it, Sam just couldn't remember anything.

The fact that they had to inform the police had bothered his parents and Samuel as well but they told him that they of course first had thought that his disappearance had something to do with the bunker and the things kept in there. But they couldn't find anything and that's when they called Samuel but he got stuck as well and that's when they finally called the police.

Sam was supposed to tell them that he was probably drugged and couldn't remember a thing, that he might have escaped but that he couldn't remember how and where. Fortunately they believed him, saying that it wasn't the first time that young boys were kidnapped and that he was lucky. They did require him to go to the hospital though to get checked out.

His mother cringed but finally gave in and he had to spend half a day at the Lawrence Memorial Hospital, where he got examined under the watchful eye of an officer. All the tests were negative, which Sam was sure he already knew. The first night, after he had showered he had taken his time to study his body, looking for any kind of hints of what could have happened. But he was unbruised and carried only the scars he had gotten as a kid. He hd stared for minutes into the mirror and again an uneasy feeling, like his skin wasn't supposed to be so flawless, like there was supposed to be at least something. He hadn't even a scratch but certain spots tingled when Sam's finger brushed over them and he didn't know why. Like the spot under his left collar bone and the one on his right ribs. The police officer asked him about rape and abuse but Sam was sure that he would know if that had happened.

After the tests were done, he spend two more days at home, doing nothing but laying in his bed and eating. He felt tired and exhausted. One night his Dad came in and told him that they found some cursed objects in the room next to the one where he had been staying while he was in the bunker. Daniel, who had occupied the room next to him, was about to write a file on witches, the Baxter Clan included and one of the object was one of theirs.

After that his parents fought.

He could hear them from his room, knowing that they argued about if Sam should become a Man of Letters or not. Of course, his Mom was now against it more than ever but his father still thought that it was Sam's fate to become one. At those times, Sam just turned in his bed and forced himself to sleep.

He kept the amulet hidden for all those days. He wore it the day he came back, it was underneath his shirt so no one noticed it until Sam was alone and undressing himself to shower. That's when he actually realized he was wearing a necklace.

One that definitely didn't belong to him.

Or that he had seen before.

It was weird, his first thought was that it was cursed, that he should give it to his dad but once he had taken it off and was about to do it, he couldn't.

He had this odd feeling that he shouldn't let it out of his sight.

He put it in an envelope instead and hid it in his nightstand, checking everyday if it was still there by feeling the bump in the paper. He never took it out again nor touched it, but he knew it was there and somehow that's what felt right. It kept him content during those days.

He knew that he should freak out more or something, especially because he couldn't remember everything but whenever he was alone in his room, he didn't care. He just slept and ate and all he could feel was peace.

Even though his gut was telling him something else.

 

* * *

 

He returned to Stanford exactly 10 days after the hunter had brought him back to his family. That was another thing Sam was confused about. He always wanted to think about the man but his mind seemed to trick him because he never managed to really think about him, always kept forgetting him and so there were only a few moments when Sam actually remembered the hunter, who had saved his life. Yet as hard he tried, he couldn't remember his face anymore. Oddly only when he looked at his mother, he felt like the memory was about to come back to him but in the end it never did.

His dad was driving him back to California himself. Even though Sam had insisted that he could take the Bus, his parents refused to let him out of their sight. ("Maybe they didn't kill all of them and some might want to get revenge.") Sam found his dad's explanation stupid because he was sure that those hunters had taken care of everything. Something just told him that they were good.

Like _really_ good.

But he was too tired to argue and so he let his dad drive him back. His things were packed and the envelope with the amulet was deep down underneath his clothes.

Samuel had left already, promising his dad to look into the whole story to prevent a future surprise. Even though Sam had the feeling that he should ask, his mind told him not to do it and so he left it alone, no idea what new information had come up in the meantime.

 

* * *

 

Once his dad had made sure that Sam had everything he needed, he left again. But not without making Sam promise to call them everyday. He even left Sam a number for a Man of Letters in the area, who he could contact anytime if something came up. He promised Sam to look into his own status as a Man of Letters and what would happen next.

But the most important thing was that Sam should rest and get back into his life again. He was safe and well and everything else could be figured out later.

Sam had agreed and was actually glad when his dad finally left him alone.

 

* * *

 

Jess was a completely different case though.

She was beside herself and even though Sam had called her right after he had come back and had talked to her every day since, she made sure to speak her mind and made it clear what she went through while he was gone.

He tried everything to calm her down without having to reveal too much. He couldn't tell her the truth, mostly because he didn't remembered much himself, so he stuck with the story he had told the police as well. That some cult had kidnapped and drugged him and that he didn't remember everything.

She was beyond pissed yet she tried to be as caring as she could, which made the whole thing more awkward than anything. She wouldn't leave him out of sight and when she had to leave for classes or work, she would stay back until she was late almost every time.

That was the point were Sam realized how long he had been gone. It had been almost a month since the initiation was supposed to happen at the bunker and for that Sam had been willing to sacrifice one school day, which he had needed to travel back to California.

But now that he had missed about half a quarter and all this exams, he was actually glad that his parents had involved the police. It made it easier to get his leave of absence accepted in the aftermath and his scholarship wasn’t affected as well. They tried to make him go to see a psychologist but after the first session and Sam’s renewed assurance that he had lost his memory, they let it drop and all he had to do now was wait for the next quarter to begin.

They even let him go back to work at the library without a word and the more this happened, the more everything felt normal again and whatever had happened was just a mist in the back of Sam’s mind.

 

* * *

 

"I still feel like you should take it easy." Jess said at breakfast one day. It's been a month since he came back and Sam was glad that the awkwardness between them was finally gone. Well, not really but more than in the beginning.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to go back to work already?"

Sam took a bite from his waffle. "I just spent the last few weeks doing absolutely nothing. They even told me that if I needed more time to work everything out I can have it. That I can come back whenever I'm ready." He took a sip of his coffee. "But I have nothing to do, Jess. And we really could use the money, we cannot pay this apartment just from your salary."

"Please, money is the last thing we should worry about." Jess huffed. "I can also ask my Dad if he could pitch in for one or two months. The most important thing right now is your health, Sam."

Sam was silent as he finished his breakfast.

"I just feel like I need to do something. I can't stay in his apartment any longer or I will really go crazy in the end."

"Fine." Jess said as she was cleaning up the dishes. "If this it what you want."

"Yes." Sam said and stood up to help her but she waved him off. He shrugged and went back to their bedroom to shower and get ready for work.

 

* * *

 

He liked working at the library, he always had, so it was nice to be back. His boss liked him, so Sam was glad that he was able to get his job back, even though everyone treated him as if he was made out of glass.

He tried to ignore that and just do his work like nothing had happened.

Yet, he suddenly became obsessed with research though. With supernatural kind of research.

Not that he hadn't before but a few days after he picked up work again, he laid hands on a book about demons and somehow that's when he had the feeling that he needed to take a look deeper into it. He had some books at the apartment already, hidden from Jess of course. But now he stayed longer after work, going through the library itself to find more books about the topic.

Most of them were pop culture, nothing in comparison with the books that would be at the Men of Letters bunker or even his grandfather's house.

Jess grew angry with him when he didn't show up on time. Or when he didn't return her calls. He got lost in time while he went through all the stuff the library could offer him and once he was done, he moved on to the internet.

He read everything there was about demons. And deals and crossroads and he had this nagging feeling in his gut that this would be the answer.

He just didn't know the question to the answer.

 

* * *

 

Only when his Dad called another month later, he got a grasp of reality again. The Men of Letters had decided that due to the circumstances, Sam was allowed to redo his initiation. The exact date was still unclear but it would probably take a few more days or weeks.

Sam couldn't really be happy about it. He didn't understand it because becoming a Man of Letters was everything he ever wanted and yet it felt wrong at this very moment.

So many things he didn't understand anymore. He should be thrilled to become a Man of Letters after all, that he was allowed to even though the whole witch thing happened. But he couldn't be excited about it anymore.

And it pissed him off.

Living with Jess had changed as well. Before he was sure that she was the one, the engagement ring, which was hidden in one of his drawers, was the proof of that. But now he wasn't sure.

Having to sleep with her became more a duty than a pleasure and it just didn't feel right anymore.

He even took it as far as finally giving in to the endless flirting of one of his co-workers. His name was Julien and even though it felt even worse than with Jess, it was somehow closer to the solution than anything else.

He felt like an asshole to use it to break up with Jess.

She was furious, called him insane and crazy, yet she didn't have the heart to throw him out if the apartment.

Sam wasn't himself, his thoughts were making him crazy and everything was just a big blur and he felt so guilty for Jess and everything was just too much.

 

He apologized to Jess, who still was angry with him but seemed to think that all of this was just a psychotic breakdown as an aftermath of his kidnapping. She told him to go back to the psychologist but Sam refused and his last resort was just to be left alone.

That's when he decided to go to Henry.

He told Jess that he would go to his grandfather for a few days, that he needed to clear his head and that he was sorry.

She let him go, still telling him that she would forgive him and that he should come back to her but somehow Sam knew that when he packed a bag and walked out of the apartment that she also knew that this was actually goodbye.

 

* * *

 

He literally had no clue how he made it to Henry's.

It was like he was losing his mind. There were questions over questions but there was no answer and it made Sam nearly insane.

His mind was clouded and his head hurt the whole time. It was miracle that he had managed to get on the right bus to drive to his grandfather's place.

Henry let him in instantly after he saw how Sam looked.

He didn't asked any questions, just led Sam into the guest room, giving him some sleeping pills so he would be able to get some sleep.

When Sam woke up the next time, he had some food on the nightstand.

He was left alone and Sam greatly appreciated that. His grandfather always had a understanding nature, never pushed too much until it was really necessary. Sam liked that about him.

But he knew that Henry probably had told his parents already, yet he kept them away, making sure Sam got the space he needed.

 

* * *

  
_(someplace else)_

“What did you expect, boy?” Death looked up where he was sitting and scrutinized Dean with a stern look.  
“Why is he having those feelings, those intentions? He doesn’t have demon blood in him, I made sure of that. I killed that son of a bitch before he could even come close to the house.” Dean was angry as they walked up and down the room.

Death just shook his head. “You stupid boy. The soul never forgets, the brain and the body, yes they might but never the soul.”

"Even though Sam currently hasn’t demon blood in him, his soul remembers, his soul remembers all. Everything."

Dean cringed. "So there is demon blood in his soul?”

“No, his soul reacts towards you, Dean.” Death smiled. “It remembers.”

“But you said it is final. You said he would be out.”

“Nothing is final. Not even Death, you should know that the best. I erased his memory and gave him a new, undamaged body, under those circumstances it is easier to lock memories of a soul away. But he scratched it once, so he probably will scratch it twice.” Death leaned on his cane while he followed Dean with his eyes.

Dean stopped, desperation written all over his face. "What can I do against this?"

Death looked up pointlessly. "Make him stop scratching, of course."

 

* * *

 

Sam stayed two days in bed until he was finally able to get up to shower. The headache had gone slightly, it was still somewhere in the back of his mind but he could think clearly and he was glad about that.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Henry looked up from his book when Sam entered the living room, hair still damp from the shower.

Sam shrugged as he fell into the chair opposite from Henry. "Better, I guess."

"Good." Henry nodded. "That's good."

"Do you know what can cause this?" Sam shook his head. "I feel like my brain is melting."

Henry put the book away. "It could be some side effects from the witches' spell maybe." He tapped the book with his index finger. "I'm trying to find something about it. Maybe you are still cursed." He sighed.

"Or maybe you still have something of theirs on you?" Henry looked up. "Do you?"

Sam didn't answer, too unsure if he should reveal it. He had taken the amulet with him again, had kept it in his backpack the whole time. Maybe his grandfather was right? Maybe the amulet is cursed and causing all this because Sam still carried it around with him.

"So you do." Henry interpreted his silence for himself already.

Sam bit his lip.

"What is it?" His grandfather looked at him disapprovingly and Sam cringed.

"An amulet."

Henry sighed and hold out his hand. "Show it to me, Sam."

"It's upstairs. I'll get it." Sam said and got up again to walk back to the guest room, where he had left his bag. He heard his grandfather sigh again when he left the room.

The amulet was still in the envelope when Sam took it out from underneath his clothes. It was sealed and he hadn't looked at it all this time. He knew that he should keep it in there and bring it to Henry like this but this feeling made him rip open the paper and take the amulet out of the envelope by its leather string.

It danced in the sunlight that fell into the room through the window.

Sam was hypnotized by it and he slowly reached up with his other hand to touch the golden charm.

 

* * *

 

This time it felt like the time he was burning in Hell.

 

* * *

 

"Son of a bitch."

Sam dropped the amulet on the floor, hands going up to grasp his head. He panted before he scrambled himself up to make it to the bathroom, where he threw up.

He coughed and it took Henry only a second to come after him, cursing as he saw the state Sam was in.

He carefully picked up the amulet without touching it, telling Sam that he would put it in a spell box. After that he came back, saying that he called his father and that he was on his way here.

Together they will figure out how to break the curse.

Only that Sam now knew that it wasn't a curse.

At least not in the literal sense.

He played along, tried to keep himself calm and his body relaxed. He went to shower quickly before he got dressed and went downstairs to talk to Henry again. His grandfather was in the kitchen and had put the amulet in a spell box and Sam did what he could to keep himself conscious.

"Sam, maybe it's better if you go back to bed." Henry said as he saw how pale Sam was. "You know, get some rest while we figure everything out."

Sam nodded, telling Henry that he was probably right and that he would be in his room trying to get some sleep. His grandfather nodded, telling him to yell if he needed something and Sam smiled tiredly.

On his way upstairs he stole a book about crossroad deals from of his grandfather's library.

 

* * *

 

Getting out of the house was easier than Sam thought. He knew this house, having spent many weekends as a kid here and even in his current state it was just embarrassing how easy it was for him to disappear through the back door without Henry noticing.

He heard a car arriving though, so Sam pressed himself against the house, trying to be invisible in the darkness. It was night already and Sam guessed that his father had just arrived.

Which also meant that his time was limited.

It was probably minutes until his Dad and Henry would notice that he was gone.

Again.

 

* * *

 

Dirt got under his nails as Sam dug the hole.

He had stolen the needed ingredients from his grandfather's office without being caught. And he knew the area, so finding a crossroads was anything but hard.

But he had to be fast.

They sure would be searching this area soon and Sam couldn't risk being caught before he was done with what he was about to do.

The amulet had shown it to him. He still saw the scene playing out in his head like a dream. He had done the same thing he did right now. Digging a hole, putting in the small box with his picture and the ingredients that were needed to summon a demon.

His Dad had shown up though, trying to keep him away from Dean. It was so clear as if it really had happened already.

He put the small box in the dirt before he stood up again, smoothing his clothes. He didn't remember everything but enough to know what he needed to do.

And all he needed to do now was wait.

 

" _Sammy_." The voice was smooth and Sam actually grinned as he turned around, Dean standing there annoyed with his arms crossed over his chest. "I told you to leave it alone."

"I don't care anymore, Dean." Sam took a step closer. "I want to be with you. I _need_ to be with you."

Dean shook his head, eyes flashing black. "Sam, it's impossible, I told you…,"

"It hurts, Dean." Sam said and now he was standing directly in front of Dean. "It _hurts_."

Dean's eyes flashed back to green and Sam saw the fight in them. He reached out to grasp Dean's jacket. "Please make it go away."

"Don't do this, Sammy." Dean pleaded.

"Nothing feels right except this." Sam emphasized his words by shaking Dean. "You made me forget and all I could do was go insane without knowing why."

"Sam…," There was pure desperation in Dean's voice. "Don't make me choose, Sammy. I won't be able to."

"Good." Sam said, determination in his voice. He let go of Dean and stepped back, arms spread apart. "You're a demon, I'm here to make a deal."

"No." Dean shook his head.

But Sam continued. "So _let's deal_."

Dean eyes turned black. He crooked his head. "What do you want?"

Sam just grinned. "My soul for my memories and body. My _real_ body." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I don't care how you do it. I want to be me again and I want to remember _everything_."

"We cannot go back. This is where we need to say." Dean sighed. "I can't change time again."

"Then we just stay here, I don't care." Sam said.

"This is crazy." Dean clenched his teeth, black eyes roaming over Sam. "Why would you do this, Sam?"

"Because this is what it is supposed to be." Sam answered. "And I'm willing to sell my soul for it."

"Why?" Dean stepped closer.

"Because I love you." Sam squared his shoulders. "And you are my brother but right now you are not and that's not right. I want to make it right."

Dean shook his head. "You want to sell your soul for me? Literally me!"

"Yes." Sam smiled. "And don't tell me that you wouldn't."

"I would do _anything_ for you." Dean said and meant it. Sam shuddered at the truth behind those words.

"So prove it. Accept my soul and turn me back." Sam stepped closer, hands grasping Dean's jacket. He could hear a car approaching in the distance and he knew that it was his father.

"What about…," Dean had heard it as well but Sam shook his head. "Not right now, we will figure it out later, Dean."

"How can you damn your soul to Hell, Sam?" Dean pleaded again.

"It's not damned to Hell." Sam said. "Not when you are the owner of it."

Dean was worried, Sam could see it in his eyes. His brother looked away. "But _I am_ damned to Hell."

"That's okay." Sam smiled and Dean looked up, confusion written all over his face. Sam shrugged. "We are Winchesters. I wouldn't have expected anything else."

"Okay." Dean said and Sam smiled brighter. "If that is what you want."

Sam nodded. "Yes."

"Then we have a deal, little brother." Dean grinned and his eyes turned demon black once more. He cupped Sam's face to pull him in, lips covering his an instant later and Sam sighed, moving closer as he returned his brother's kiss.

In the middle of the crossroads.


	6. Epilogue

 

 

Dean woke up to the smell of smoke. Sam’s heavy arm was draped over his chest and held him down but Dean blinked, knowing there was something off. Only then he felt the presence of the other being in the room.

The gun under his pillow was gone and all he could do was sit up in bed, Sam heavy asleep next to him, snoring slightly. He punched him slightly in the ribs but all Sam did was turn his head further into the pillow.

"He won't wake up." A voice spoke and Dean was startled, even though a moment ago he had noticed the intruder, yet all he could do was stare into the darkness until a dim light put the room into a reddish glow. The blanket had slipped from his shoulders and pooled over his lap, leaving his upper body exposed to the cold air. Only then he realized that the light, which illuminated the room, came from himself and he stared down to see the mark on his arm glow in a fiery red.

"Dean Winchester…,"

Dean looked up and stared in the darkest corner of his bedroom. The mark's light grew fierce and the light finally reached the girl standing there and watching him with dark eyes.

He skidded back until his back hit the headboard of the bed and he had no other way to go.

The girl stepped forward, exposing black hair and the fact that she was completely naked. Flakes of ashes swirled around her presence, mixing with black strands of her hair and every time they touched her golden skin they combusted into nothing.

The stench of smoke and fire grew stronger, mixing together with the smell of fresh blood and something burning.

Dean gagged, remembering the scent as if he was still rotting in one of hell's holes.

"Who are you?"

She smiled and came a step closer. A fresh cloud of ash flakes whirled up around her. "Oh, unfortunately I am not supposed to tell." She crooked her head, her gaze falling on the sleeping form of Sam.

"What do you want then?"

She kept smiling and nodded towards him. Dean frowned but looked down at himself and saw then the golden necklace dangle around his neck. It was a simple gold chain and held a glass vial at the center of it, which rested on his naked chest, right above his heart. "What's this?" He reached for it and the moment he touched it, the liquid contents lit up in a bright blue light, challenging the red one coming from his arm.

The vial was enclosed in golden clasps at both ends, both engraved with various swirls and what seems like enochian symbols. The blue light inside swirling up and down as Dean turned the small glass around in his hands.

"That's your brother's soul." The girl answered. "You received it once he sold it to you."

Dean looked up and saw now that the girl was wearing a necklace as well, golden like his and long enough to extend to the middle of her breasts. Unlike him though, she had two vials on her necklace, one shining in a bright blue like Dean's and one that was shining blue at the top only. The vials were small, probably half the size of Dean's little finger, yet he could clearly see how a good quarter of the second vial was completely dark and lightless at the bottom before it started to get light through the middle until it became the same bright blue at the top like the other two.

"That in fact is your soul." She said as Dean continued to stare at the necklace. He raised his head and stared straight in her eyes. They were black but not demon black; it was just the pupils that were black and Dean suddenly wished they were demon black. Then he would at least have an idea of what he was dealing with.

"My soul?" He asked then.

She nodded. "I received it once you accepted my mark."

" _Your_ mark?"

"It's not Cain's nor Lucifer's. The _Mark of Cain_ is a part of my own soul, the darkest part of my soul to be honest. By accepting it, you made me the bearer of yours." Her eyes roamed over him.

"What?"

"Everyone, who owns someone's soul has such a necklace, they are just invisible for most. The more souls you own, the more vials are on there." She looked down at herself. "You can compare it to the angel's graces if you want to."

"Who the hell are you?"

She smirked at him like they just shared an inside joke. Dean obviously had missed the punchline though.

"Due to the mark, yours got a little scorched I see." She shook the vial with the dark spot at the bottom but it wouldn't get mixed up or whatever Dean had expected it to do as soon as she had shaken it. It just stayed the same. A new cloud of ash whirled through the air though.

"The _Mark of Cain_ , it literally leaves a mark. You cannot get rid of it anymore. It's etched into your soul for eternity, Dean." She answered and with it so much more became clear. Dean cringed and she sent him a sympathetic look. "But something tells me that you can cope with that."

"It got easier." Dean answered truthfully. "Once I accepted it completely."

She nodded. "I was able to feel that."

"So what?" He looked up. "What are you gonna do with my soul? Why are you here?"

"Nothing." She said. "I just wanted to show you Sam's."

"Why?"

She smiled and stepped closer. The mark flared up in an angry red and the smell of smoke almost became unbearable. Ash flakes rained upon him once she came even closer. His glance wandered to Sam, who was still asleep and probably had no other choice anyway. "This is just a dream after all, Dean." Her voice got smooth.

She looked upon him, smile dancing dangerously around her lips. "Well, now we both know that demons, who make deals with humans, don't get to keep their souls." Her eyes held a certain amount of pride, which Dean couldn't quite follow. "Once they own it, they deliver it onto Hell."

Dean was quiet.

"Now I don't mind that you kept Sam's, I really don't, but unfortunately this is not how it works." She leaned closer as if she was about to tell a secret. He had to blink away the ashes.

"See, I have… _a lot_ … of these things." She snapped her finger against the vial, which wasn't Dean's soul. He didn't dare to ask whose it was. "Yet it's yours that I need to carry around with me, so someone doesn't get their hands on it."

"What?"

"I received your soul as soon as you made the deal with that demon to bring Sam back. I didn't own it then, only when you allowed me to attach a part of my soul to yours through the mark, I finally did own it."

"So I don't own Sam's soul?"

She smiled sadly at him. "Unfortunately."

Dean looked down at the light dangling over his heart and swallowed. He had been so damn sure.

"I know you have. But that's why I came." She said, her eyes locked upon Sam. "They also want Sam's."

Once the words were out, Dean's hand automatically reached up to close tightly around his own vial. She gave him an appraising look. "Now we don't want that, right?"

"What do you want?" Dean hissed and coughed as he swallowed a load of ash. They burned down his throat and it felt like he was going to burn from the inside out.

"I'm not here to threaten you, nor to make a deal." She straightened up, flakes dusted up around her once more. "No."

Dean's head got swamped with pictures.

"Dean Winchester, I'm here because I have a mission for you."

She leaned even closer, the vials of her necklace brushing his skin and leaving an tingling feeling behind. He tasted the ashes on his tongue again and his eyes starting to burn from invisible smoke. She smiled and reached up to run a finger tip down his cheek and down his neck before she took a hold of the gold chain and held it between her thumb and index finger, letting the chain run through them as she worked her way down to the vial. Dean still had his hand around it tightly, keeping the blue light out and he stared up at her with set eyes and clenched jaw. Her fingers danced over his before she pulled them back.

"And if you manage to succeed…," Her eyes dart over to Sam and then back to Dean to hold his gaze. The red gleam of the _Mark of Cain_ danced in her black eyes like flames. Ash rained down on both of them. She smirked.

".. then I will give you everything you want."

 

 

_The End._


End file.
